#if you're going to be an asshole it's an immediate block

[luvrrszn]

match point

STANFORD!ART DONALDSON x STANDFORD! FEM READER

summary art goes a little too far in ensuring that nothing ruins your friendship

warnings angst, nsfw (smut), erm probably a shit ton of challengers inaccuracies, happy ending though no worries

a/n guys i'm going crazy i think i play too much block blast...i see blocks when i close my eyes at night

masterlist

Art was a mean, mean person when he wanted to be. He was the sweetest boy growing up, always making sure you were okay after Patrick teased you, always walking you home at night. But after the night the two of you hooked up, everything changed.

His demeanour, and the nuances of your relationship.

Casual, you promised. It was the only thing he would agree to.

No strings attached, no feelings involved. Those were the conditions he set when he agreed to fuck you.

You'd realised you liked him when you were 14, and you'd never stopped since. So, when you promised Art you wouldn't get attached, you did your best to control your feelings.

Mean Art, who secretly has feelings for you too, but doesn't want to ruin your friendship.

—

Mean Art, who constantly reminds you that there are no strings attached.

You lay there on your dorm bed, cunt still dripping his cum as he redresses, pulling his Stanford tennis t-shirt over his head. You grumble, "Are you sure you won't stay? We can put on a movie or something."

His gaze is cold. Condescending, almost. He reminds you, "I'm not your boyfriend. This isn't what we agreed to."

Tears sting at your eyes, and you feel your heart sink. You say, "Yeah, yeah I'm sorry. Forget I said that. Sorry." You turn away, tears dripping down your face as you hear the soft 'click' of the door closing behind Art.

Still, you hold out hope. You've liked him for so long, giving up now would be stupid...right?

—

Mean Art who starts going out with other girls in hopes that you get the hint.

Even though he has absolutely zero interest in anyone but you.

You walk past Art in the dining hall. He's sitting across from some blonde girl, who's eating something off of the spoon in his outstretched hand.

You can feel his gaze trained on the back of your head as you walk off. You hurry off, sick to your stomach, unable to shake the sight of him acting so domestic with someone he had just met.

Because that meant he was capable of being a boyfriend. Just not yours.

In the next few weeks that follow, he's everywhere.

Every time you see him, he's talking with, flirting with, or touching some girl. You see him so often that you start to think that it's only because that you're wishing more than ever to not see him right now.

Or maybe it's because he's making sure you would see him.

—

You decide to go to a frat party to get your mind off of Art. You'd been avoiding him all week, after deciding that you needed to take some time for yourself.

You danced with your roommate, and talked to a few guys from the frat. You barely even noticed when Art walked in. Keyword: "barely".

You've been nursing a bottle of cheap beer for the past half hour, the music suddenly getting too loud, the space getting too crowded.

You need space.

You head upstairs, looking for a bathroom to lock yourself in while you take a breather. Pushing the nearest bathroom door open, you find your gaze meeting Art's.

It doesn't take you long to realise the....situation he's in. He's leaning against the sink, a girl kneeling before him with her lips wrapped around his dick, and his hands tangled in her hair.

Art, being the asshole he is, does not break eye contact with you.

You immediately spin on your heels and slam the door shut.

Anger and frustration boil deep in your chest, but what is the most painful is how hurt you feel.

You beeline straight for the front door, weaving through a mess of dancing, yelling college students. You don't notice Art who follows a few paces behind, and you don't notice how regretful he looks.

"Hey, wait up!"

You don't stop walking. But you don't speed up either. Art catches up to you easily, both of you walking down the driveway. You refuse to look at him because you know if you do, you'll cry. But the anger in you bubbles over as you turn and yell at him, "What the fuck do you want now? What more could you possibly want from me?"

"I just want to talk." He replies, voice soft.

You let out a bitter chuckle, "Art, I think you've made it clear you'll do anything but talk. Actually, no. You've made it clear you don't want to do anything besides fucking me and leaving me feeling like the most pathetic person on earth."

You turn to walk away again, but he grabs your arm before you can leave. For some reason, you don't shake him off.

"Please. Just hear me out." Art begs. His heart sinks, seeing the broken and defeated look in your eyes. Your eyes had always been something he loved about you. How expressive they were, how they always seemed to betray you when you were trying to hide your feelings.

You sigh and nod.

Art hesitates a little, before saying, "Look, I’ve been a total jerk, and I know it. I’m sorry—I mean, really sorry. You don’t deserve that. No one does. But I need to say this because it’s been eating at me. I think—I know—you might feel something for me. And… I feel the same. I do. But here’s the thing. I’m terrified. If we try this and it doesn’t work? I can’t lose you. I can’t risk messing up what we have. You mean too much to me, and I don’t know if I could handle that. So yeah, maybe I’ve been pushing you away because I thought it’d be better for both of us. I just—I don’t know. I’m sorry."

You take a while to process everything he says. He looks at you with the softest gaze you've seen from him in the past two years, and it finally clicks in your head.

He likes you back.

You finally reply, "Yeah, you have been a jerk. And I don’t think you get to decide what I deserve or how I should feel about it. What you said… I appreciate the honesty. But if you think treating me like crap was some noble way of protecting our friendship, you’ve got it backwards. You don’t get to push me away and then expect me to be okay with it just because you’re scared. If you like me, then show it by treating me with respect—friendship or more. If you’re not ready for that, fine. But I deserve better than games and excuses."

His face falls before you add, "But if you’re willing to actually step up—to stop playing it safe and meet me halfway—then I’m here. I’m not asking for perfect, but I won’t settle for less than real. So, it’s your call. Just know that if you’re in, I’m in too."

The grin that spreads across his face is a wide one.

"Oh, I'm definitely in."

[yazthebookish]

Ruhn about Lidia vs Azriel about Elain

I don't even have to analyze the text, this immediately pinpoints to the issue I have with Elriel. Sexual attraction is absolutely normal but what else is there? and that's what we don't see with Az when he thinks about Elain.

It's a very simple thing that could've been mentioned, it doesn't spoil anything but the fact that we didn't is very telling. He doesn't even makes a comment about her joy or smile when he gives her the necklace. We don't get what Az thinks about Elain as a person and that's the issue a lot of readers have with this pairing.

I just found this to be a very interesting example.

[teawithcherries]

wrong number

Ghost receives a text that leaves him absolutely reeling. OR the guy that you texted on accident is weirdly flirtatious and you're kind of into it?

1.1k words. lieutenant!Ghost x chef!reader (f). reader’s age unclear but 18+ (not a minor!!). divider by @plutism.

Unknown: SOS!!!!

Ghost immediately goes deathly still, eyes zeroing in on the text message notification that blinks across his phone before disappearing.

Having a SAS issued phone means that his phone number should be impossible to find. He doesn’t receive spam texts or calls and the few people who have his number know better than to bother him when he’s on paperwork duty. Which means that something is not right.

His phone buzzes again, and he feels his gut churn sourly.

Unknown: (1 attachment)

He doesn’t have time to think, he just braces himself for the worst. A photo of Johnny bleeding out with a gunshot wound? Coordinates to a location where Gaz is being held hostage? 

He’s already reaching for his kit in case he needs to jump on a helo when the attachment, an image, finally opens up.

The breath that was suspended in his chest slowly releases like a deflated balloon as he tries to make sense of the carnage on his phone screen. Yet, it isn’t one of his squadmates that’s crying out for help. Rather, it’s an image of a Cornish hen that’s been burnt to an absolute charred crisp. 

His mind is racing at a speed that he can’t quite process, his eyes methodically scanning the photo for any clues or hidden messages in the image. 

Yet, even to his trained eye, the image is perfectly normal. The background of the photo is a standard flat kitchen, slightly disorganized with cooking materials and ingredients scattered about. Your feet are visible in the corner of the photo, you’re wearing a pair of girly pajama shorts and bunny slippers.

His brows scrunch together in confusion, thoroughly perplexed and slightly annoyed at the mental gymnastics that he is undertaking to try to make sense of these messages.

Ghost: Who are you?

Your reply is instant, confirming his suspicion that you have truly somehow managed to message him by accident.

Unknown: It’s (♥︎), your classmate from culinary school!

Ghost glances at the image again, brows scrunching in disbelief that you are training to become a chef considering the charred and blackened state of the bird.

Ghost: Wrong number.

Unknown: Ah, how embarrassing. So sorry to disturb you! I must have jotted down my classmate’s number incorrectly during class. Have a lovely rest of your evening! 

That’s that then.

He sighs and sets his phone on his worn desk, glancing back at the mountain of paperwork that awaits him. He’s several hours away from finishing up, and Price will absolutely have his head if doesn't get it all done.

Yet, for reasons he isn't willing to unpack, the image of your bare legs tucked into those ridiculously fuzzy bunny slippers lingers in the back of his mind. His fist twitches, annoyed with himself for getting so hot and bothered over a mere glimpse of bare ankle.

You’re just another nameless, faceless muppet in the void of the digital age. Even responding back to your text message is probably a breach of security protocol that could land him in another hour long cybersecurity training seminar if he isn't careful.

So Ghost isn’t sure why he bothers picking up his phone and typing a message at all, but his thumb hits send before he can ponder it any further.

Ghost: Chicken seems a bit burnt.

Being the asshole that he is, Ghost can’t help but chuckle wryly at his own joke. He figures you’ll probably ignore his message. Maybe you’ll even take offence to it and block his number. So when his phone instantly buzzes with a response, his interest is fully captured.

Unknown: You think? I worried it might be a bit underdone.

The corner of his mouth twitches upward beneath his mask.

Ghost: I could be wrong. You’re the chef after all.

Unknown: Well, there’s plenty to go around if you fancy charcoals and mash.

He's fully smiling now, embarrassingly chuffed that you're playing along.

Ghost: You asking me on a date?

Unknown: Depends. Are you a serial killer?

Ghost: Depends on your definition of a serial killer.

It’s silent after that and Ghost can’t help the kernel of disappointment that takes root in his chest. Easygoing banter is far and few between for the lieutenant who has spent the last 48 hours trying to make sense of the mountain of paperwork that piled up on his desk during his last mission. He was enjoying this exchange with you far more than he cares to admit, and several minutes pass with no response before he glumly locks his phone and returns his attention to his desk.

A full day passes and Ghost accepts that he has scared you off.

Yet he can’t blame you. He knows full well that there are loads of creeps and nut jobs on the Internet who could take advantage of you. And even so, you’d be better off messaging any one of those weirdos rather than him. Because, after all, he’s ... who he is.

Three days later, Ghost is seven kilometers into his evening jog around the training field when his phone buzzes again unexpectedly. His eye twitches but he doesn’t check it right away, chiding himself for the persistent flare of hope in his gut that refuses to be extinguished. He’s been pathetically rushing to his phone with every notification he receives since your last text message came through and feeling disappointed every time it isn’t you.

It’s only when his phone buzzes again that he decides to bite the bullet and check who's texting him.

He’s fully expecting it to be another stupid meme from Soap in the 141 group chat. Which is why he skids to a stop, heart suddenly pounding in his chest, at the sight of a message from your phone number (which he has memorized at this point).

It’s his trigger finger that flies to open your message, eyes fixed intensely, almost nervously, on the pixelated screen of his outdated phone.

You’ve sent him a photo of a sausage roll, a proper sausage roll, that’s cooling on a wire rack in your kitchen. He's already salivating at the sight of the juicy blend of ground meat packed neatly and precisely into a flaky case of golden pastry, as well as the sliver of your bare thigh that's showing in the edge of the photo.

He assumes that you’ve accidentally messaged him again instead of your classmate until he sees the message beneath the image.

Unknown: Just wanted you to know that I’ve been testing some other recipes for our date. 

Unknown: Thoughts on my sausage rolls?

Ghost doesn’t even realize that he’s grinning like a madman until his face starts to twitch uncomfortably. He hasn’t smiled so hard in months, maybe even years, and the mechanics of beaming like a lovesick idiot have almost been forgotten by his stiff facial muscles.

He responds immediately, almost afraid that you might slip through his gloved fingers again if he is even a second too late.

Ghost: That’ll do.

(thoughts on part 2 from reader pov? i want them to talk on the phone and see ghost be all cute n awkward TT)

[maisanshine]

𝐖𝐇𝐘?| 𝐉𝐉𝐊

Why do you still love me

The playlist series

Paring- romantic!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

Warings- pwp (just a little) smut, unprotected sex, throat fucking, boob play, mentioned masturbating, rough sex, overstimulation, hickeys, biting, manhandling, and crying after sex

WC; 1.7k

A/N; chill, this is a mess

Not edited

Now Playing WHY? by Bazzi

☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆

Jungkook knows he's pathetic. He's delusional and idiotic in everything along those lines.

He just loves you so damn much. He knows he's not perfect, but he's committed to doing whatever it takes to make you happy.

He can't help it.

He is a romantic who fell for Anti.

Jungkook spends days crying about you; his parents hate you. His friends hate you. He doesn't care, though, and you don't either. Everything reminds Jungkook of you. The Netflix account that you two share. When he goes to watch funny videos on Instagram, remember that you blocked him for no reason.

When he's driving his car and sees the remnants of stuff you've left behind, the Polaroid picture is in his wallet. You and Jungkook had a simple agreement. Friends that have sex.

But Jungkook trapped himself; he started doing more than you asked. Buying you gifts, taking you to concerts, meeting his mom, and hanging around with his friends. You also did the same; Jungkook saw it as more. He thought you two were building something. But then, when he scrolls through his feed and your story doesn't pop up, or when he searches for your recent Instagram pictures, your account says it is unavailable.

It reminds him that, to you, he is only your friend. A friend that you block when you've found someone else more entertaining. You block Jungkook because he does too much and he ruins your other flings. Like when you actually tried to be in a relationship and Jungkook ended up in your ex-attempted boyfriend's car. Drunk because you blocked him two weeks prior and pictures of you and him fell out of his wallet.

Your attempted relationship called you an asshole for leaving Jungkook so quickly and moving into him. He could only ever imagine what you would do to him when you were bored.

You didn't talk to Jungkook for 3 months until you were bored and unblocked him. He came back like a stray dog on the street. Then you sent him packing again three weeks later.

Jungkook tried to play you back; he slept with some girls and sent you a very shitty sex tape. You answered two weeks later, saying you guys could make a better one. Pathetic, you know damn well Jungkook is head over heels in love with you. But you don't care. You're just happy that you can keep him around.

His friends call you weird and shady but still want to fuck you, and very few have succeeded.

But like today, you were scrolling on Tinder, waiting for someone to pop up. But it was dry, so you rolled over to your mirror, took off your clothes, unblocked Jungkook, and sent him a well-awaited nude.

He opened it 54 seconds later. And he was on his way to your place. Jungkook almost ran outside naked when he saw your DM. He threw on some clothes and ran. He actually running to your place, 7 blocks from his.

You stand in your window, and you hear Frantic steps. You look down the street and see Jungkook running for his life. He spots you on your balcony. With a sinister smile plastered on your face. You can hear his breathing from seven floors of the ground. "Hey, Kookie," you say, going inside and waiting for him. A few minutes later, you hear the elevator at the end of the hallway

Jungkook is out of breath, but when he sees you standing at your door with nothing but your little pink satin robe,. He almost crashed out. Out of breath, he kissed you, and while you slipped off your robe, he immediately touched your breasts. One of his favorite parts of you. Even though he loves all of you, he does have his favorite parts.

Your boobs, your hair, your lips he can go on and on. You two make it to the couch as he takes off his shirt, his chest still damp from his shower. You kiss his neck as he sucks on your breast. "Are you wet?" you say, and he nods, mumbling something. "What?" you ask, and he picks up his head. "I was walking out of the shower when you sent me that." You giggle as he leaves hickeys on your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples.

You moan in his ear. Sitting up, you shove his pants down. Take him into your mouth. Jungkook grunts. As your wet and hot tongue pleases, his very deprived cock. Getting hard immediately in your mouth. You take his length down you throat. Jungkook thrusts his hips into your mouth, and you moan, batting your eyelashes once. Signifying him to fuck your throat.

He does, and he moves faster than the lewd sound of you gagging on cock. Jungkook feels his orgasm. He takes your hair pounding it into your mouth. He look at your eyes, which are watering. He stops, and you take a deep breath and moan. Jungkok lifts you up from the floor, throwing you on the gray couch. He positions himself between your legs, entering you with a deep thrust. You arch your back in pleasure, feeling him fill you completely. Jungkook's hands grip your hips as he sets a rhythm that has you both gasping for air.

"You know I'm getting tired of your shit, Y/N. You blocked me for weeks, then you sent that fuck ass shit." Jungkook fucks harder. You feel it in your chest. You moan, digging your nails into your shoulders. As he continues to pound into you. He stops and flips you over. He smacks your ass. You pick it up for him and he grabs the meaty flesh. He thrust back at you, and you moan, gasping as you hit you with another thrust hitting your spot.

His eyes bore into your body, filled with a mix of happiness and frustration. "I'm not going to make this easy for you," he growls, his grip tightening on your hips. You can feel the intensity of his emotions fueling every movement, pushing you both closer to the edge.

"I'm going to fuck you for how you make me feel." His words thrust into you at an ungodly fast pace. "You like it rough, yeah, do you, baby? You love it when I pound into you like this." He's grabbing your ass so hard that it's probably bruised from the force. "Jungkook," you say in a hushed whisper. He smack your ass. Hard

"Shut up, this is how I feel when you block me for them other slow fucks," Jugkook continues with the fast pace. After about a minute or two, he feels your pussy throbbing repeatedly against his lenth, and then he slows down. Giving you long, painful, slow thrusts. You whimper, punching the couch cushin.

'This is how slowly the days move after, just waiting for you to call me back to you." He keeps up the slow pace. Your body aches from your orgasm, but you feel it lingering. Jungkook kisses you back. “You want to go faster, baby? Like how ast I came running to you," you nob your head.

"Beg," you let out a disappointed sigh. You shake your head, no. " I'm going to fuck you nice and slow till I come. I don't care about you right now," he says, flipping you over on your back again, and Jungkook lifts up your legs. When you press up against your chest, your calvles rest on his shoulder. He pets your hair, his finger running down your face as he fucks you slowly

Your body hurts from the ache, so you compile. "Please go faster; it hurts," you says, placing his lips on your neck. "Does it hurt, baby? That's what I feel like too sometimes," he said, nodding and agreeing.

Jungkook kisses you, sucking on your tongue. He pulls away. "But you want to know something, babe; I don't care how you are right now. Just like how you never care about me. Your such a bad friend," Jungkook plays with your clitoral. His still inside of you with his slow thrust. You feel at his fingers, playing in your wetness.

"Please, Jungkook, I'm sorry. Just please fuck me faster." Jungkook smirks and increases his pace, his thrusts becoming more intense. You moan in pleasure, but he's not moving fast enough. “Jungkook faster?" He shakes his head, continuing.

"Your so mean," you say, gripping on the cushin of your coach. Your head is spinning at Jungkook thrust, and your body is agching but also satisfied, even though you haven't come yet.

Jungkook, speed up. Knocking into you at the faster speed from earlier. He's almost cumming. He is going to make you feel good. He rub your sopping cunt. Kissing your neck. You start to moan louder as your orgsams appearing once again after a long time. You grip onto Jungkok's thigh. Gripping his flesh, your head is spinning as your body heat builds up inside you.

Jungkook's movements become more harrowing by the second, his grip on you tightening as he reaches his own orgasm. The room is filled with the sound of your moans and his heavy breathing.

And finally, after what feels like hours, you cum, you cum so hard that your body starts to shake at the sight of your eyes bugging out as you moan so loud. Jungkook also comes, you feel it shoot into you. The sticky white mixture is counting your simulated walls. Your head hurts, and your body is tired. You look at the alarm clock on your coffee table, eyeing the time. 1:39am. You feel yourself dozing off.

You usually fall asleep after sex. But this time was different. "I love you, so fucking much baby” Jungkook whisped into your ear. You feel tiny wet tears fall on your shoulder. Getting off of you Jungkook sits on the edge of the coach breathing heavily. You turn over, you can’t bear to look at him. He just fucked your brains and now he crying like a kids who got his candy stolen.

"Why do you love me?' This isn't the first time Jungkook has told you this. So you changed your question.

'Why do you still love me?"

A/N; so y/n hate fan club?😭

[timkontheunsure]

What Blitz regrets

Interestingly most of Blitz's memories are more accurate with people's expressions than Stolas' in all 2 u.

Here's how he remembers the fire.

He see the imp lady and Cash bookit passed him. Then the pink horse cuts across him.

Then him seeing Fizz and trying to direct help to him.

Next is him trying to get to his Muma

Then we get the aftermath of the fire. (Screaming face made of flame).

Cash grabbing Blitz by his freshly buried wrist to hold him in place to hit him. Immediately blaming him for an accident. His mom just died and his dad did this.

Then blocking access to Fizz, shoving Blitz away. Before lying that he never visited, and that Blitz deliberately set the fire, isolating and scapegoating Blitz.

Moving on to Ozzie's which is large part of his film of his regrets and envys.

Fizz hating him on sight.

And Verosika too.

oh but he missed Stolas getting up to try to defend him from her.

Blitz also focuses on his putting his hand away from Stolas trying to comfort him

Though you can see Stolas miss reads his expression right before. When Ozzie showed his daughter hating him, and had people side with his abuser because she was 'cheated on'.

Stolas being sad when the only thing they have is Stolas wanting to fuck him.

They are both forced on this bit. That they don't have a relationship where they talk and cuddle, because it wasn't a real date. He made sure of that.

(never say never Mr too much Imp to simp)

Stolas giving him the crystal and asking him to stay. Definitely shows the crystal is huge sore point for him.

Stolas was more focused on how surprised Blitz was.

Stolas walking away from him as Blitz yells that he'll apologise to everyone else. But never him. If he hadn't said the previous 'fuck you' making Stolas think he gave him a fake reason for blowing up at him, Stolas would have understood.

Stolas singing the line "I don't think you ment to hurt me, because I don't think it meant a thing at all to you"

Oof that must have hurt.

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody". Oh he regrets not believing Stolas cared for him.

And regrets missing his chance to comfort Stolas. (Blitz failed a QTE).

But ok big big difference here! Blitz has definitely misunderstood. Stolas' isn't crying.

He's edited out what a mess Stolas was here. Like he's forgotten how drunk he was..

And Stolas kissing the twunk is a perfect match... Oh that got seared into his brain didn't it.

Pure envy

Blitz so badly want that kind of romantic relationship

Barbie telling him he's ruined her life, and she never wants to see him again. (Just going to sob in a corner here).

And Loona. Both times are fights about being really family.

Loona: Oh, what does it matter?! You're not my real dad! I was almost eighteen!

Blitzo: It still counts!

Loona: Well, it shouldn't! I didn't need you then, asshole! I don't, now

Blitz needs to be needed by the people he loves. Otherwise he thinks they're leave him

Blitzo: Oh, Loona, my sweet baby girl! I'm so sorry, I'll never replace you no matter what you--

Looks like he still worried that she hasn't really forgiven him for saying he's replace her.

Blitz isn't just talking about Stolas here. He thinks if he's bankrupted IMP Milli, Moxxie and Loona will all leave him too. Spirals to rock bottom in this one.

So glad Millie could help pull him out.

[ones-g]

not so yours

SoftDom!Caitlyn Kiramman x F!Reader.

Summary:Just Caitlyn being pathetic over a whore, you.

"Well, look what the cat brought... if she isn't my favorite commander?" Your honeyed voice comes out like a bold welcome, so sweet and seductive at the same time. "To what do I owe her visit?" You asked, noticing how quiet the high-ranking commander of Piltover was. "Commander Kiramman... you must have missed me, right?"

"Please, don't be so proud," she replied crudely. Her black jacket that wrapped around her body slowly disappeared thanks to your hands. Your bold laugh became heard. "Oh come on... you're very serious, did something happen?" You pressed with your words, making the bold decision to squeeze her arm, feeling her biceps totally tense.

The next thing you felt was a slight push back, her arm slipped out of your grip, as if disgust was present in all her essence -fortunately it was not the case- She turned her back to you as she began to walk towards that huge two-piece bed, the blankets in disarray but still a pleasant aroma abounding between them —And in the room— Caitlyn sat freely on the edge of the bed, running her hand over her face, dragging that gloved part over it, god she was frustrated, tense and so tired, so... pressured.

You guided your body wrapped in the few rags that covered it, a pair of soft silks covered your most intimate parts -encouraging clients to pay for you to get rid of your few clothes, for their own delights of being able to undress you to their liking, adore you to their liking, belittle you to their liking- Caitlyn noticed your presence and snorted, that sound echoing through the room. "Commander, what can I do for you?" Her eyes fell on yours, her gloved hands immediately settled on your hips, imprisoning you between them. Her forehead rested on your belly, staying in that intimate position, you could even describe it as sweet. "Be nice to me... a good... a good girl" She murmured against your body, pressing you closer to her, as if she wanted to consume you, not let you go. "I need you to be good to me, stop being a brat for a moment..." She continued, this time scratching the skin of your lower back hip. "Will you fulfill my request?" She asked like a needy puppy, her pupils dilated, tired eyes, you could see the black bags under them, she really needed to de-stress. Who were you to refuse?

"Commander... you just give the order and I will follow" You said playing with the words, achieving that second intention, confirming that in fact, you would do everything she asks of you. Everything. "That's why you're my favorite... my precious and only girl... you have me fucked up" She panted kissing around your navel. "What will I do when I'm gone and someone else has a turn with you?... huh...?" She began to ramble, his hands leaving your hips, descending slowly and painfully until they reached your thighs. "It's not fair... I want to fuck you, destroy you, have you all to myself... you only give me a portion of you, sharing you with other assholes after me... and that's not fair... baby" She added with that look of pain, of pity, as if he wanted to cry for not having you just for her. Since when did Caitlyn Kiramman become so possessive?

"I'm a whore, Cait, my service is..." "Do you think I care? Do you think that really interests me? If it were as simple as saying it right now I would burn this place down... while I fuck you so—" "Shut your... mouth" You interrupted by positioning two of your fingers on his lips, blocking them.

"Enjoy your moment, okay?" You slid your fingers away from his mouth to tuck his unruly lock of hair behind his ear. She frowned. Enjoy the moment? She always does, she always pays the same amount to have you all to herself for hours -incredibly breaking the schedule protocol, she's the damn commander of Piltover, it's obvious that she'll use her power on things that she needs-

"Come with me..." She suddenly blurted out. "I'm so exhausted from coming home and knowing that there's no one waiting for me between those walls..." Her voice trembled slightly as did her hands as she held your free hand. "Cait, I'm literally the opposite of a housewife," you replied. You didn't want to sound harsh, or remember that her wish wouldn't come true, it wasn't the goal. "But looking on the bright side... I'm waiting for you between these walls," you finished. You took the invisible invitation to sit on her lap, you weren't rejected, Caitlyn adjusted herself to the position, offering you her hands between your butt so that you wouldn't fall backwards. "That makes me sick."

"Do I have to pay to feel that something belongs to me?" You remained silent. You always told yourself that you weren't anyone's property, you did, but having Caitlyn in this state, so sensitive, made you bend again. You had to fulfill your clients' whims, right?

A bit short, anyway... second part?

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (1/7) - dbf!Joel x reader

You're home from college for the summer, staying with your parents in Austin, TX. So is your dad's best friend, Joel Miller. Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 2.3K A/N: If you know/follow me, you're probably just as shocked as I am to see a dbf!Joel fic by my hand. Totally get it if it's not your thing, please feel free to move on and skip this one. However - if you've read and enjoyed other fics by me, you may wanna give it a try! Submitting this also to @hellishjoel who is organizing the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (go check out all the other fics on her page!) 💜

series masterlist | main masterlist next chapter >

You don’t hate him. Not exactly. 

But he doesn’t need to know that. 

“I’m just so damn sick of him, you know? He thinks he’s so important and hot shit. People are fawning about him all the damn time, but he’s just my dad and an asshole,” you sigh to your best friend on the other end of the Facetime call. You’re in an Uber headed to your parents’ house, desperate for time away from school and your cheating ex. Your mom had been excited that you would be spending the summer break with them in Austin, and assured you that your father would be too. As IF. 

“I thought that maybe I could just relax, but no. Everything is about my dad again. He started this big... I don’t even know what. Project. Venture. Mission. Did you see it on tv? He’s on the news all the damn time.” Just the thought alone already makes you cringe, and you’re glad to see your friend nod at you, requiring no further explanation - she knows all about your father. “So I figured he won’t be in my way when I’m home. But now his friend Joel is staying at the house, too. The entire fucking summer. Who even does that?”

Your father and Joel had been friends for a long time, even before you were born, but you struggled to remember anything about him. He was a contractor, running his own company for quite a while now, and he had a brother named Tommy. “They’re working on renovating his house, so he needed a place to stay. It’s not like he’ll be in your way, sweetheart. Most of the time he’s out working for clients,” your mom had assured you, reminding you there were more than just a few spare bedrooms at the house. But to you, it didn’t matter; he would be in the way. You just knew it. Ruining your summer. The last thing you needed was a constant reminder of your dad shaped as Joel, hanging around the house.

“No, I don’t know much about him - it’s been years since I saw him.” You wince as you see your parents’ house down the street, and for a moment you’re tempted to ask the Uber driver to circle around the block one more time. “Look, I’m here - I have to go. Wish me luck, call me later,” you plead with your friend as the car pulls up to the oversized driveway. It takes a moment to get all your suitcases out of the car, since the driver merely watches you with an impatient frown on his face, but then you’re finally stumbling towards the front door. 

It’s good to be in Austin again, but you haven’t missed the Texas heat - and humidity - for one bit. All you want right now is a pizza and a very, very strong drink to forget about the shitty trip you just had. But it seems not even that is in the cards for you right now, as nobody bothers to come to the door after you’ve loudly rang the doorbell. Not even on the third try. Just when you’re about to start screaming in frustration, you finally hear footsteps rushing down the hallway. 

“Mom, why did you not–,” you start when the door swings open, but the words immediately stick in your throat as you stare at the man in front of you. Tall, strong, and handsome, looking much better than he had any right to while being dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt - courtesy of those arms in particular, and a mouth that immediately gave you ideas about where he should put it. Jesus Christ. 

“Joel…?”, you finally manage when your brain seems to catch up with the low throb you’re feeling in your pussy. You do not remember your dad’s best friend looking this hot, or smelling so good - the sandalwood in his cologne reminds you of more than just a couple of debauched nights on campus that you’d had in the past year. But this was clearly not one of the frat boys that surrounded you during your classes or evenings out. This was a whole ass DILF, somewhere in his early forties like your parents, and it takes you effort to not whimper as you take him in.

Your core aches just from looking at him, a painful reminder of how many weeks it has been since you’d last had an orgasm that didn’t come from your own hand or a toy. Finding out that your piece of shit ex-boyfriend had been running around with several other girls had been a harsh way to end the semester, but at least it made you decide to spend the summer here in Texas. And that decision suddenly seems like a very, very good idea in retrospect.

It’s only when Joel says your name, an amused smirk playing over his face, that you realize you’ve definitely been staring at him. “Hey, kiddo. Been a while. D’you need a hand with that?”, he asks, and as you hear his drawl, you’re pretty damn sure that you’ve never heard that man sound anything like this. Goddamn. Hot in every way, it seems, it seems - you may have never before appreciated a Texas accent as much as you like his.

He doesn’t wait for your response, but simply takes over two of your suitcases and a duffle bag like they weigh nothing. “Nicole- I mean, your mom asked me to help you get you settled, she’s gonna be back in a few hours,” he says, keeping the front door open with one strong shoulder so you can get into the house. 

“Thanks, that’s so nice of you,” you manage to say as you follow him through the house, to your bedroom on the second floor. Walking behind him is the perfect excuse to take in his physique, and you freely let your eyes roam over his strong shoulders and broad back, and you can tell you’re getting wet just by looking at him. God, he’s fit. Especially for a guy who is probably twenty years older than you are. Those arms… Was he single? And - did that even matter, really? 

You realize that you must’ve zoned out and missed something he’s said to you, because he gives you a questioning look when you’re both standing in your childhood bedroom. The decoration, colors and posters are still familiar to you, but in a detached way, like you’re looking at them in a photo album of someone you used to be, in sharp contrast to who you are now and the man in front of you.

“I said that I hope I won’t be in your way this summer. Your parents are happy you’re staying here with them,” he says, then surprises you by giving you a friendly, brief hug. “It’s good to see you again, kid.” You gladly accept the hug, and you can’t help but bury your face against his shoulder for just a moment, inhaling his cologne and the underlying subtle tone of his natural scent. That’s when you internally make up your mind, right there on the spot.

You want him.

Now, and for the rest of the summer. 

And if that pissed off your father? All the better.

Once you’re sure he’s left the hallway outside of your room, you grab your phone and immediately google his name, checking through his online profiles. No mention of any wife or girlfriend. Perfect. When you find his Instagram, your jaw drops at the photos you see of Joel clearly working hard and dripping sweat. Almost pornographic, really.

With a few taps you send the pictures to your best friend, quickly adding the caption ‘sooo i decided I’m gonna be his inappropriately young gf for the summer’. Her response pings almost instantly, as you expected, a barrage of emojis and ‘OMG GIRL YESSSS GET THAT DILF’. You can’t help but chuckle as you send a quick message back to her, ‘more later xxx’, then turn off the sound on your phone.

For a moment you consider unpacking all of your luggage, which would definitely be the more practical thing to do. On the other hand, your parents are not gonna be home in the next few hours, and since Joel’s room didn’t seem too close to yours to overhear anything…

You sigh in relief when you find the silky bag in your luggage that stores your sex toys, and pull out your favorite clit sucker without a moment of hesitation. Quick and dirty, that’s what you need right now, you decide as you get onto the bed. After a moment of hesitation, you re-open Instagram and scroll back to Joel’s page, while you reach for your AirPods in the hidden pocket of your dress. 

His profile is clearly promotional for his company - Miller & Co -, and you vaguely recognize his brother Tommy in some shots, but fortunately the focus is mostly on him. When you click on Reels and see several videos of him at work, your heart starts racing, your mouth going dry while you feel the exact opposite happening in your panties. Fuck, he is so hot. If you thought the view you had while walking behind him was good, it sure is nothing compared to seeing him work on construction projects that show him flexing those muscles, jeans clinging desperately onto his thighs the way you would like your hands to do.

You’re stroking yourself already after the second video, and by the time you’re treated to the sight and sound of him lifting lumber with a grunt, you’ve got two fingers deep inside of your pussy. You whimper as you imagine he’s in your room watching you with those dark eyes. Your breathing grows heavy as you picture him getting on the bed, giving you that sexy smirk as he puts his head between your thighs so he can lick at your wetness. His bottom lip had tempted you from the start, and you just know it would feel so good as he’d circle your clit with his tongue. 

You can barely suppress a moan as your hips buck up hard, and you press the toy closer against yourself, thrusting your slick fingers faster as you chase the release that’s close - so so very close already. What if he buried that stubble against your thighs, urging your fingers out of yourself so he could lick them clean, his lips closing around your digits as he’d suck on you. Brown eyes filled with desire, reflecting how much you want him too, and then the push of his tongue inside your cunt as he starts to eat you out. 

You whisper his name quietly as your body starts to shake, hearing him moan contently as he works you up some more, then comes up for air, slipping two - no, three of his thick fingers roughly inside of you, just as demanding as his mouth is. “Good girl. Now come f’me.”

You gasp as the orgasm ripples through you, much faster than you expected, and you bury your face into your pillow so you won’t cry his name out loud. Before the waves of your orgasm have subsided, you flip yourself to your stomach as you keep the buzzing toy in place, grinding down harder on your fingers as you shudder from the overstimulation. Still you keep going, because it’s what Joel would do - you know it’s what he would want, tease you and push you to make you come again and again. 

He’d make you cry his name out loudly, until you’re writhing against him like a feral cat in heat, desperate as you’re begging him for his cock so he can fuck you into the mattress, claiming you and demanding to own every part of you. His sweaty heavy body covering yours, lips and teeth drawing more gasps from you, until your head becomes completely devoid of any thoughts, only able to focus on how good he’s making you feel - how his thickness is throbbing inside of you, going deeper than anyone has been before, and you know that he’s about to ruin you for any other men, because it’s never going to be better than it is with him.

As your body convulses and you’re about to come again, you suddenly hear your name being called loudly from downstairs - not by Joel, but the shriller sound of your mom’s voice as she’s looking for you. It takes everything you have to restrain yourself from yelling angrily at the interruption, your mind and body at war with each other for a second, and you bite your lip hard as you mentally grab onto the fantasy of Joel, unwilling to let go of it - of him. 

“Coming!,” you snap loudly, hoping that she won’t be able to hear the panting in your voice, or the buzzing toy in your hand. “Be right there!”

‘Good fucking girl. Such a dirty little slut for me,’ imaginary-Joel whispers at you, pounding into you, and you know he’s about to come too. “Give it to me again. Wanna feel you soak my cock,” the whisper changing into a low hiss that sends shivers down your spine. You bury your face even further into the pillow as you whine his name, begging him for more, to pump his seed into you and fill you up. He laughs, the sound hoarse and taunting, and then his hand grabs a hold of your hair and tugs your head back up. “No hiding. You scream my name when I make you come, you hear me?”, he grunts at you - and you bite your lip as you come hard again, soaking your fingers for a second time as the orgasm rocks you so much harder than the first one did.

Fuck. FUCK. You need him, every part of him, so goddamn bad. 

next: part 2 >

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates for updates when new chapters drop!

A/N II: Thank you @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @lotusbxtch @sin-djarin @mountainsandmayhem

@qveerthe0ry @perotovar for encouraging me to write a wild idea that suddenly came to mind. This came together shockingly fast with ideas and feedback from all of them, so thank you babes for supporting and enabling me! Fic title is obviously snagged from Chappell Roan's 'Guilty Pleasure'!

[suiana]

(yandere! cringe loser harem x gn! asshole reader) (shitpost)

you were an asshole and you knew it. yet, something about you just manages to pull people in... which is why you were currently in this situation.

LOSER #1: we are in 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖓⛓️🥀

LOSER #2: our hearts yearn for more :(

LOSER #3: you don't want to mess with us 👿

YOU: u all r so cringe what the fuck

you facepalm at their messages, face twisting in mild disgust. you had met these losers on a discord server and they were simping for you the second you sent a message.

they were so damn cringe, like pre pubescent boys that were rejected and turned emo to cope with the heartbreak. constantly quoting sad lyrics, trying to be 'cool' and stuff like that...

and you decided to give them a chance.

why? well it was because you thought it would be funny and you were bored. i mean, some loser men wanted your attention and you were willing to give it... so why not?

it's not like they were going to do anything else anyways. other than simp and beg you for attention, right? and if they did you'd just doxx them and break their hearts.

LOSER #2: we are only cringe for you ❤️

LOSER #1: 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚 ⛓️🥀

YOU: what do chains n roses have to do with this

LOSER #1: 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌

LOSER #2: saviour please just be with us :(

LOSER #3: you don't want to see us mad...

seriously, they were just so damn cringe... but yet, you couldn't help but allow them a fraction of your time.

YOU: ohhh so scary 💀💀💀

LOSER #3: yes we are

YOU: 💀💀💀

LOSER #2: you look really attractive in your pyjamas...

what?

you immediately jump out of bed, looking out of your window as you squint. you try looking around for anyone who might've been looking into your window but to no avail.

what the hell? was he actually stalking you? i mean, you knew this loser had a bit of a history with stalking but...

YOU: what the hell r u actually here

YOU: pls say ur joking or i will block

LOSER #1: are you worried? don't worry, 𝖜𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 ⛓️🥀

LOSER #3: yeah as long as you don't anger us...

you narrow your eyes at their messages, slamming your laptop shut as you call up your friends. what the hell, these losers were taking their joking too far... or maybe it's just karma for all the kids you bullied in roblox meepcity 💀

however, as soon as your friend accepted the call, you were met with the voice of someone unfamiliar.

"darling, you're so adorable when you're actually worried."

[sturnsdarling]

boyfriend

{insp by @sturnioz au} smartand'mean'!reader goes to one of fratboy!matt's freshers parties, and has a run in with a boy that doesn't end well.

vibe check: violence, angsty vibes, nasty frat boy grabs reader by the face, fluff, protective!matt, aggressive!reader, descriptions of blood and fighting etc, smoking

1.3k words

A/N: this idea is based on this post that I saw. literally foaming at the mouth over this dude, they are THEM. also can you tell i have a thing for boys who will beat people up for you? yeah.

love and cigs, merc

The music was thumping against your skull, crowds of people around you as you moved your way through the party. Matt had called you about ten minutes ago, drunkenly telling you that he missed you and needed to see you, and after a good five minutes of calling him cringe and bullying him lovingly, you made your way to the house.

It was freshers week, so there was party every night at Matts frat, hoards of new, fresh eyed faces just waiting to be corrupted by the imfamous Sturniolo frat. It was awful, and not your scene at all, but part of being Matt's girl was participating in frat culture, even the bits you hated.

"hey, sexy, where you goin?" speaking of things you hated...a wide eyed fresher grabbed your wrist, pulling your attention away from the entrance to the kitchen.

You turned back to face the boy, brows furrowed in disgust, "not interested, dude, fuck off" you spat, pulling your wrist from his grip and attempting to walk away.

He was relentless, and shuffled after you, quickly stepping in your path and blocking your view of the kitchen. He cooed, grabbing your hands in his.

"don't be like that, baby, you're too pretty to be mean" He said, peppering touches up and down your arm.

you squirmed, pushing him off you with a groan, "I said, I'm not fuckin' interested" you repeated yourself as he stumbled backwards.

The boy chuckled, pressing his tongue to his teeth as a white hot rage of rejection washed over him. He came forward, grabbing your face in his fingers and squishing your cheeks together, his face inches from yours. Your hand came to his wrist immediately, trying to pry his gross fingers from your face.

"you fuckin' bitch, think you can touch me? embarrass me in front of everyone, no wonder you're here alone" He said, his breath hot on your face.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Matt, charging through the crowds of people to get to you. A smug smile formed on your squished face as you looked back to the pig in your eye line, "actually, asshole, I'm here to see my boyfriend" you said, words muffled through your teeth.

"boyfriend, huh? who's that then?" The boy chuckled.

"me" Matt spat from behind the boy, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and pulling him down onto the floor with brute force.

Before he could even attempt to get up and fight back, Matt was holding him by his collar just above the floor, feet on either side of his hips, pummelling down into him, mercilessly clocking him across the jaw over and over again. The boys blood was splattered across the hard wood floor, and everyone at the party had formed a circle around the three of you.

You took a few steps back, shaking the feeling of disgust out your brain as you felt two large hands grab you by the shoulders from behind. You flinched, but as you turned, you were met with the deadpan face, but concerned eyes of Chris.

"you okay, kid?" He said, nodding slightly.

you nodded in response, "I'm alright" you said, following his movement as he ushered you behind him.

Matt was still going, he had lifted the boy up by his shirt, holding him inches from his face, "not so big now, are ya? puttin' your hands on my fuckin girl-" Matt was cut off by a swift punch to the face from the boy, the whole crowd reacting in sync

You inched forward instinctively, but Chris held an arm out to stop you, shaking his head, you reluctantly listened and stayed put.

Matt laughed, blood pooling out his nose and down into his mouth. Matt moved his hands up to the back of the boys head, raised his leg at an angle, and cracked the bridge of his nose off the corner of his knee.

The boy hit the floor with a thud, and was out cold almost immediately. Matt didn't stop, he laid a swift kick into the boys rib cage, and spat the pooled blood in his mouth down at the limp freshers body. The whole room was silent, the only sound being the heavy breaths of Matt, and a few small whispers about how insane he is.

"fuckin' freak" he said through gritted teeth,

Matt looked up from the boy and took in the sight around him, the entire party all gawking at him like he was a derranged animal. His eyes found yours instantly, a wave of relief washing over him as he saw you stood with Chris.

"take this as a warning to everyone in this fuckin' house" Matt yelled, turning as he spoke, "that girl..." he pointed to you with his ring covered, bloodied hand, "is mine... and if you touch her...well" he paused, looking down to the boy who was just about gaining consciousness on the floor. Matt grinned, baring his bloodied teeth to the room and gesturing with his arm down to the boy.

You moved out from next to Chris and strode over to Matt, wrapping your arms round his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. His hands found your face immediately, pulling you deeper into him as he ignored the burning pain of your face pressed against his bleeding nose, your warm kiss acting as a soothing balm to his burning anger.

you and Matt were on the curb, after being instructed by Chris to go cool off.

Matt took a long drag of his cigarette, dried blood covering the bottom half of his face as his bruised knuckles bent on their hinges, his long, slender fingers holding the straight between them. You were leant on his shoulder, a cigarette hanging from your lips as you attempted to decompress.

"they all think you're insane now" you muttered.

Matt chuckled in response, shaking his head, "I don't give a fuck what they think", he turned to look down at you.

you shifted your head on his shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes, "do you think i'm insane?" Matt asked with a cocked brow.

you smiled, laughing softly, "yeah" Matts eyes widened slightly as he toked his cig, "but I like it" you added, leaning up to him as he pulled the straight from his mouth.

You captured his lips in a kiss, his cigarette smoke filling your mouth as you pressed your tongue against his. He let out a small groan, mostly of pain but also of pleasure, reeling in the way your mouth felt against his. You pulled away with a breathy chuckle, keeping his eye contact as you took a drag of your cig.

His eyes flitted between yours, slightly bloodshot and fluttery. You couldn't help but smile, he was so beautiful, even (especially) with a split nose and bloodied face.

"so" he grinned menacingly, "boyfriend, huh?" his tone was teasing, but his heart did a little flutter as he spoke the word.

You smiled and rolled your eyes, looking away from him, "you're ridiculous"

"you're the one that said it, not me" Matt taunted, watching your side profile as it was illuminated by the butt of your cigarette, refusing to indulge him in the satisfaction.

You were so beautiful, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, and he meant what he said at the party and a thousand times before, you were his.

"hey" Matt said, placing a finger under your chin and moving your face to lock eyes with him, "I can be your boyfriend" Matt smirked, his words soft, "if you'll let me"

A small smile formed on your face, your eyes flitting between his in a triangle between his lips and piercing blue iris', you bit down on your bottom lip, "okay" you nodded slightly.

"yeah?" Matt beamed, raising his brows slightly.

"yeah" you nodded, smiling from ear to ear.

Matts eyes fell to your lips and in an instant, your mouth was pressed against his once more. Your tongues pressing and pushing against one-another's desperately as he pulled you up and onto his lap.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour @sofieeeeex @ncm9696 @lovesturni0l0s @pepsicola-pussy @ifwdominicfike @dani-sturn @stupendousjellyfishpost @aesthetixhoe @sturn-rose @mattsnronebitch

[allaboutsturns]

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

matthew sturniolo x reader

content/warning(s): angst, fluff, arguing, swearing, kissing.

summary: you and matt get into an argument after you guys go too long without communication. harsh things are said but in the end you guys work it out and listen to each other.

Don't cry, or do whatever makes you comfortable

I'm tired too.

you looked at matt who sighed for the fifth time within ten minutes, finally deciding to ask him what was wrong, "are you okay, baby?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed slightly. your boyfriend looked over at you and shrugged, "fine." he muttered out the single word and you tilted your head at his dismissive attitude.

"don't seem fine." you said under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear not exactly what you said but that you had said something, "huh?" he asked, now facing you on the couch. you shrugged in response.

he rolled his eyes in your direction but you ignored it and looked away, crossing your arms over your chest. "god you are so annoying, y/n. i don't know why you're acting like this right now. can we not?" you felt your heart pang as the words repeated in your head, 'god you are so annoying, y/n.'

you turned your body to face your boyfriend whom you loved so entirely, "annoying?" you asked as tears tugged at the rims of your waterlines. matt nodded slowly while pinching the bridge of his nose, "yeah. i constantly have a headache because of you, all you do is talk and get in my business and i'm so sick of it." he groaned before looking directly into your watery eyes, shooting a glare into them. it was a look of genuine disgust and annoyance.

it felt like someone had ripped your heart right out of your fucking chest and stomped on it in front of you. after a couple seconds of silence and staring at each other a quiet sob escaped your gentle lips and tears began to race down your cheeks, "fuck you, asshole. if you don't want me around because i give you headaches all the time you coulda just said that." you quickly reached your hands up to cover your face before you got up off the couch and quickly walked to you and matt's shared bedroom.

there's nothin' left to say.

matt watched you exit the room, his eyes followed your movements closely. your tears and words hadn't registered in his mind until you were unable to be seen from his position on the couch. his heart dropped to his stomach but he sat there for a moment. he felt guilty almost immediately and wanted to apologize but he wasn't sure if you'd want him to.

let's call a truce,

'cause i don't really wanna go to bed

like this.

after about thirty minutes of sitting in complete silence, matt got up and began slowly walking over to your bedroom. he pinched the bridge of his nose harshly, "fuckin' idiot." he whispered to himself, disappointed with the role he played during the recent argument.

he reached one of his hands towards the doorknob and slowly twisted it open, "y/n...?" he spoke gently, as if anything he were to say in this moment could break you to pieces like a fragile glass sculpture. when his eyes landed on you his heart broke even more than it already had.

you were curled up on his side of the bed wearing one of his hoodies. you were holding his pillow tightly, breathing in as much of his scent as you could just in case this was the last time you would get to. your body heaved up and down as quiet sobs continued to leave your lips, tears still streaming aggressively down your face and onto the pillow. some tears managed to stain the cloth of his hoodie but that was entirely unimportant to him in this moment.

he quietly closed the door and walked over to the end of the bed, "baby, i am so sorry." he whispered while sitting down at your feet, placing a hand on your calf. you didn't realize he had come in because you have this habit of blocking everything out when you're upset, it was a defense mechanism.

you buried your face further into the pillow, too scared to look at him, "annoying..." you whispered. it was muffled because the pillow was covering your entire face. matt's face twisted into an expression of guilt and sorrow. he started moving his thumb back and forth gently against the comforter that covered your body.

"i didn't mean it..." he muttered, still so scared that you would crack at any moment. you moved the pillow away from your face and looked at your boyfriend who looked absolutely crushed. you had mascara running down your face and your eyes were red and puffy, tears staining your cheeks. he moved his hand from your calf to your cheek, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb.

i don't know what it's like to be you,

i don't know what it's like but i'm dying to.

"i don't know what it's like to be you," he stated quietly, "but i do know that you're so scared of being annoying..." he paused for a moment when he felt his throat closing up, "and i took advantage of that because i was frustrated, stressed, and overwhelmed," he sighed, looking down at the hand that remained in his lap, "i let my emotions get the best of me and i know that's not an excuse but i am truly sorry." he rubbed his thumb against your cheek gently before looking back at your face, sorrow and guilt painting his beautiful blue eyes that you loved so much.

"do you hate me..? am i annoying...?" you finally mustered up the courage to ask the question that was burning a whole in your brain. he shook his head frantically and took one of your hands in his free hand, squeezing it three times. you guys did this thing ever since you started talking, knock three times, honk three times, squeeze three times. it was another way the two of you said 'i love you' without saying it.

"no, honey. not at all. you are my moon and all my stars, i could never get annoyed by you," he reassured, "i promise." he took his hand out of yours and reached a pinky towards you, "pinky." he said as he interlocked your pinky fingers. he planted a gentle kiss to your lips while your pinkies were still intertwined together.

you pulled your pinky away from his and smiled gently, "okay," you said quietly, the vibrations of your voice hurt your sore throat so you couldn't speak loudly. he smiled gently at you, "okay.." he whispered in reply.

no matter what you say i won't love you less,

and i'd be lying if i said that i do.

"i love you, no matter what i say i will always love you." he said as he pulled you further onto him. you guys had been cuddling for about an hour now, just listening to each other's calm breathing. you were extra lucky because you got to listen to his beating heart which was one of your favorite things to do in the entire world.

"i love you so much, baby," you paused and nuzzled further into his chest, "i always have and always will." you said as you forced yourself away from his chest, placing a gentle kiss to his lips before returning yourself to the comfortable position you had just been in.

you tapped the side of his ribcage three times and he kissed the top of your head three times.

i don't know what it's like.

the two of you eventually fell asleep in each others arms, both knowing damn well that next time there would be communication and discussion of feelings. it's so important to you and matt knows that. it's important to him too but he looses sight of that sometimes, and that's okay. he'll make sure to work on his communication skills because you're not someone that he ever wants to loose.

Y'ALL it's been so long omfg i'm so sorry that i forgot to feed u guys... i love u so much i hope this suffices. i've been so fucking busy and the writers block has been literally insufferable bro. i have like 2 drafts written up for u cuties i js need to gain the motivation to actually finish them. i've also been listening to shawn mendes and why don't we again so expect fics based around those songs. anyways, love u guys xx!

also i js wanna say thank u guys so much for 200 followers! we're already almost to 300 and it's mind blowing. the amount of gratitude i feel because of the overwhelming support is unreal. i truly appreciate n love u guys soso much!

- ace <3

taglist: @whoisabbyysblog @mattyblover07 @b2cute @samandcolbyfan22 @h3arts4harry @nickgetsmewetter

[giddyfatherchris]

📱skz texts —how they react/comfort you (when you're going through a rough patch with a friend)

| including. bang chan, lee know

warnings. mentions of homophobia, anxiety and depression (but not going in depth with any of these subjects)

a/n. FINALLY!! channie and lee know’s part babyyyy honestly i kept procrastinating but today i decided enough is enough.😤 again, these are not in order but i cannot be 🎶booOoOoOthereeeddd🎶 so :) hope you enjoy mwah xxx

changbin, seungmin & i.n

hyunjin, han & felix

Lee Know

He knew from your texts you were not in your normal state. You were usually such a bubbly person, but when you answered so drily to his questions, he knew something was wrong.

As he waited for you to come home, he couldn't help but pace in his apartment. You weren't living together yet, but you spent so much time at his flat that you claimed it as your second home comfortably. In the 15 minutes it took for you to arrive, Lee Know had prepared himself for many scenarios, but he could have never predicted how you opened harshly the door and slammed it shut. Your ritual of crouching on the floor, calling for his three cats, was brutally ignored as you stomped to the kitchen.

"Hi, baby." He tentatively tried. Cautious, he kept his distance as you grunted in answer. You opened the fridge door, looked for a milli second before you closed it, then repeated the same process with the pantry. You made yourself a glass of water, didn't even take a sip, and grumbled as you looked in front of you, not really seeing anything. You abandoned it on the counter, ready to stomp away, when Lee Know put himself in your trajectory.

"What's going on?"

You would have kept walking if he hadn't grabbed you by the shoulders and blocked you from carrying on.

"Uh?" you looked at him as if you were just now seeing him. "Nothing, something at work, it's enraging." 

"Then please tell me so I can know who to kill," he replied in an equally angered tone. His hold on your shoulders tightened slightly at the thought someone had hurt you. 

You looked at him, surprised. "What, kill someone?" 

"Please, Y/n. I've never seen you like this. I don't know what happened, but for it to put you in that state, I'm guessing it's pretty serious." 

He had to pull it out of you, but you finally explained how you discovered one of your coworkers, who you considered a friend, was, in fact, a raging homophobic, queer-hating asshole. When you first heard him comment on someone else wearing a rainbow pin, you had laughed it off, thinking he was being dumb, but he kept adding on, and you realized, horrified, that he was being serious. 

Cherry on top, when you told him you were pansexual, he had stared at you with this idiotic air and asked if you were attracted to kitchen appliances. It ended up with you terminating that 'friendship' and leaving the office completely enraged. 

Your boyfriend listened carefully to your story. His piercing eyes set on you when he finally stated, "I have no idea how you managed not to smack him in the face." 

You let out a dry chuckle, telling the story again only egged you on, and brought up a familiar gloom you hadn't felt in a while. Immediately, he noticed the change in your demeanor, how the burning rage had simmered to a profound sadness. "Hey, it's okay, you can report the bastard, you know. He can't go around saying stuff like that."

You wrapped your arms around your middle, your lower lip softly shaking as you exhaled. "It's been a long time since I've been directly in contact with someone like that. I'm mad at myself for not seeing it maybe others knew, and they considered me badly for hanging out with him. I feel so bad."

He pulled you to him, softly resting his chin on top of your head. "Some people are really good at hiding who they truly are. He never said anything before, you never could have known."

"I know, but I somewhat feel like a traitor to my community," you covered your face with your hands before hiding in his chest. "Is that dumb?"  

He softly pushed you back and leveled his gaze with yours. "That is a little dumb because you did not betray your community, okay? You can't betray someone if you've also been fooled. And you know what's the best thing to do now? Report his ass. I'm sure if you do, there will be others who feel comfortable speaking up."

Your eyes lit up at his suggestion. "You're right. I want queer people to feel safe at work. The thought that I might have been seen as someone who would threaten that makes me sick. But if I speak up, that could change. Maybe we could even create a committee to do sensibilization about homophobia in the workplace." The gloom in your eyes was replaced with a fire. "One thing is sure, I won't let it happen again.

He gave you an adorable grin as he softly grabbed your chin. "My little fighter, I'm proud of you."

Your eyes disappeared into a happy smile as you hugged him again. "Thank you for always supporting me, although I am slightly scared of how little it took to convince you to kill someone." 

He laughed before grabbing you over his shoulder and whispered with a diabolical expression. "You shouldn't." 

Because really, there shouldn't be a doubt in your mind that this man was ready to make anyone who hurt you pay a terrible price. 

Bang Chan

The leader rubbed his hands on his face in an attempt to wipe away all the exhaustion. He looked back at his computer screen, feeling a violent cramp in his head causing his eyes to squeeze shut of their own accords. 

"Okay, okay. I get it. No more computer today."

He grabbed his phone before getting up, pleading his eyes to survive one last exposure to the light of a screen. He clicked on your name and quickly typed in, asking you what you wanted to eat for dinner but all signs of fatigue disappeared once he saw your answer. Worry replaced any feelings in his heart, his tired eyes fixed on the device.

What could have happened for you to be so down? He knew you were dealing with a difficult friend lately, but could it have gotten this bad so quickly? He wondered if he should push it, ask you more, but as his eyes started burning again he realized it would probably be of no help and he should wait for you to get home. Chan looked around the apartment, an uneasy feeling in his chest, a restlessness agitating his limbs. You were hurting and he couldn’t stay still, waiting for you to arrive. Then it clicked, he looked at your messages once again, closed the app and started dialing a number he was starting to know very well. As the line rang, a smirk slowly took place on his full lips.

You tiredly entered your apartment, welcomed with a delicious aroma. You kicked your boots off, more than ready to change into comfortable clothes and hug your boyfriend. 

Your heart melted at the sight waiting for you in the kitchen. Chan, his sleeve rolled up, showing his strong forearms, was very focused on the pots and pans burbling in front of him. He softly hummed to the soft jazz music playing in the background, completely oblivious to the world around him. You silently walked to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, loving how his strong back felt on your cheek through his clothes. 

"Jesus! You scared me," he whined, still, you could hear the smile in his voice as his hands wrapped around yours. "How are you?"

You didn't answer, feeling tears prickling your eyes and that burning sensation in your nose when you knew you were about to cry. You buried your face in his clothes, hoping it would muffle the sound of your sobs. 

"Y/n?" he quickly turned around, realizing you were far from okay. "Hey, baby what's going on?"

Violent sobs shook your body as you slid to the floor engulfed in Chan’s reassuring embrace, allowing you to let it all go. Once you calmed down enough to take a big breath, he asked again. "Baby, what happened?" 

Softly, he brushed his fingers through your hair. He was a calm and reassuring presence for you in all the chaos. You knew you could trust him, knew you could tell him anything and he would be there for you.

"You know my ´friend’, our relationship was already rocky, I knew that, but I thought it was getting better. When we studied together the other day, we talked so much, about anything and everything and even personal stuff. I thought we were getting over that petty argument, but today I heard them tell other people from my classes how I was faking my anxiety disorder and depression symptoms. They said I only did it to get attention and that I- I was an addict." Your voice broke on the last word, horrified that such words could have come out of their mouth.

Chan had to fight everything in him not to go after them right now. If there was one thing he despised it was when the ones he loved were hurt. He couldn't bear it. He knew how hard it had been for you to get a diagnosis and start taking medication. How could someone be heartless enough to make such comments? 

"I heard some of the people in the group defend me, but still... I can't believe it. I'm so stupid, I never should have told them about it."

"Y/n. You are not stupid. They are the assholes. You are not stupid for trusting someone you thought was a friend okay? I don't ever want you to think you are stupid for that."

You looked at him with teary eyes. He felt himself melt and soften, all anger disappearing when he realized how badly you needed him. "You are not stupid. You are not faking anything." he softly stroked your cheeks, wiping away the tears as he did. "I'm so proud of you for reaching out for help. I'm proud of you every damn day, and you know the people who really love you do too." You closed your eyes, relishing in his warm touch, allowing his soft voice to erase every doubt and fear. He softly kissed your forehead, "Okay?"

"Okay," you whispered. "Thank you I don't know what I would do without you."

"You would still do amazing because you are one of the strongest person I've ever met."

You chuckled at his comment. "You're so cheesy. Still, I'm pretty happy to have you." You lifted your head towards the stove. "Especially if you tell me you've been cooking for me." You took a deep breath in, finally registering what it was you were smelling. You looked back at him, already smiling, a look of surprise on your face. "Is- is that my mom’s… How, how did you do it?"

A proud and satisfied expression was printed on his features. "You wanted your mom’s spaghetti so I called and asked her to help me make it. Turns out the recipe isn’t that hard." He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear while you stared at him like he was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen, which he was.

"I can’t believe you did that. My mother has never told anyone her recipe!"

"Yeah, about that. I might have had to make a deal with her to get it…" You rolled your eyes, ready to hear some embarrassing stunt your mother pulled on your boyfriend. "I had to explain why I wanted the recipe, and she might have made me promise we’d go visit your family in two weeks while you’re on spring break."

You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck, asking him a thousand time if he was kidding, if this was really happening, while he promised over and over again it was. You pulled back to look at the satisfied smile growing on his lips. Chan was a sure value in your life, maybe the only true one, and as you looked at him, his dimpled smile and the satisfaction he had in preparing all this for you, you knew this was it. He was everything you would ever need.

[4ei-yv]

escape ᯓ soobin x femreader

genre: smut, slice of life, little teeny bit fluff

warnings: stress pretty much hard fucking you, sweetest boyfie service top!soobin, soft sex turned into... hehe. oral (f), pet names, spit / lmk if I missed anything!

it's been a hell week for you. you don't know if this is karma getting back to you or your classmates are really just a bunch of assholes making your life miserable.

monday and tuesday started as fine, but it turned into a nightmare after that. wednesday became your starting point—your pet peeves annoying the shit out of you and even corrected your behavior for scolding your classmates who are circling around a fainted girl. you're literally in charge of keeping the class not as chaotic as possible.

thursday really got you. some asshole wrote nasty words on your notebook and you were asked by your professor why did you write it. you explained to him in a panicked voice, "sir, even though I'm foul mouthed sometimes, I would never ever write stupid shit like that to my own notebook." good thing he considered it and gave you a good grade.

friday—earlier, made you almost burst into angry tears. your professor presented a documentary to your class for reflection and to write your opinion about it, but before that happened, you noticed the girl who looks like a butchered barbie whispering to her friend. you shrugged it off, thinking it was nothing. after that, her friend literally sat down in front of you to block the tv from your view. you were pissed, you love watching documentaries.

after class, you immediately went to your boyfriend's house. you entered the house unannounced and plopped down on the couch with a loud, exaggerated sigh.

soobin, who is currently playing mario kart, paused his game to greet you with a kiss. "hey babe, how's school?" sigh, being a college student sucks when your boyfriend just freshly graduated.

you start to ramble about your day and how today's week has been pissing you off. your professor even scheduled to finish the powerpoint presentation by monday—and your group hasn't even started researching!

"I'm sorry about that, love." soobin sighed, placing his big hand on your cheek to caress it. "and I know you haven't got a proper sleep after your examinations. you need a break."

"how?" you asked. "I'm literally gonna cry out of anger right now, maybe even commit arson. but seriously, how am I gonna rest if I have a shit ton of work to do? our date is canceled because of work."

"love, as much as I want to help, I cannot control your professors. and we can reschedule our date, hon. don't worry about it." he says softly, planting a kiss on your forehead which made you feel relieved.

"why don't you let me help you relax and escape from the reality, hmm?" he continued, his eyes filled with lust and admiration for you. you nod at his suggestion, letting him push you gently on the couch to lay on it.

soft, breathy moans escape your lips, legs spread and tits out as soobin eats you out. it was messy, actually. but you didn't mind—he looks good with his mouth and chin covered in your juices and his drool.

your back arched slightly when he inserts one of his long ass fingers, and since you were lost in this pleasure, you started to grind on it because why not?

"a-ahhah... soob..." you whimpered, a sigh coming out from his mouth. "you greedy princess... look at you being fucked out when we just started."

soobin suddenly pulls out his finger, making you whine. he stands up and pulls you on the edge of the couch before aligning his cock on your entrance. you genuinely thought that he was going to be hard on you, just like he always does.

but you were surprised when he pushes himself inside you and starts to thrust with a slow speed, as if grinding on you. you had gotten a little sensitive since it's been two weeks without any sex, blame the shitty college shit of course. and oh, my. it felt like you were in heaven.

having sex with soobin was always passionate, but not as passionate as tonight. you grip his biceps, looking up at him with your mouth slightly drooling. "more.."

"hmm? you want more?" he says, smirking at your request. he paused his thrusting, his lips crashing into yours in a heated kiss.

"you want more, hon? I'll give you more."

© iluvmy-desire, 2024 [ please don't steal. reblogging and liking my posts will be very appreciated. ]

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 1

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 1

Word Count: 4145

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Special Warning 2 : I advise reading the introductory chapters first, as they give a sense of the story, introduce characters and locations and, this chapter starts off immediately after the Sanji chapter. Your first interaction with Law is in those chapters! If you don't want to read the other characters, I recommend reading, at least, Law's Chapter since it's their first interaction!

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: First chapter of Law's story! I'm already writting chapter 4 so I think it's safe to start posting this. I'll try to update regularly, but life usualy kicks my butt so I'm aiming for one chapter per week (though this can change!) Also, this story is more sugestive than Ace's was, since reader has slight kinks (described in tags) that will influence the story. Read the tags, people, they're important! I guess this is it. Have fun!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

|Chapter 2|

The ride home is uneventful. You have come out empty-handed from your job hunt and, as your car drives by the clinic, you remember that there is still a very serious conversation to be had with your father about his surgery. He has to have the surgery as it will improve his lifestyle. 

Shanks is eating chips straight from the bag as he screams something at the players of a football game on the TV when you arrive. That is all fine. Except his posture, however, makes your eyes twitch. He's completely hunched over, and every time something exciting happens in the game, he jumps, throwing his back as if he doesn't have an injury on it. 

You bang the front door especially hard just to get his attention - he hates when you do that - but he simply yells an angry ‘careful, bug!’ without tearing his eyes from the television. Sighing, you enter the living room and place your body in front of the TV. 

“Hey! My game!” He yells, hands in the air and another jolt to his back. 

“Dad! Your back! You want to throw it out again?” You cross your arms in defiance, moving your body as he moves his head, blocking his view even as he tries to see behind you. 

“Bug, I'm being careful.” He whines, clearly more interested in what’s going on behind you. 

“I'm going to set up an appointment with Dr. Law. We are going to schedule the intervention and you are going to get surgery. But first, you will speak with him and get all your fears and worries out of the way. He seems very competent. You're in great hands. Do you agree?” Stomping your foot down, you raise your eyebrow at him. 

“Can I have some time to think about-...”

“Not if you want to see the game!”

Shanks grunts and falls against the back of the couch. 

“And don't make those sudden movements! You'll throw your back out!”

��Fineeeee!” He drags the ‘e’ so much that he sounds like an exasperated child. “Schedule the appointment.” A heavy sigh parts his lips. “Now get out of the way, bug.” You remain stoic, eyebrows raised even higher now. “Please?” He begs as he sits very straight on the couch. 

At that you nod in satisfaction, turning to leave the room and already dialling the clinic’s number to schedule an appointment at Law's earliest convenience. 

-*-

Unfortunately Law's schedule is not the same as your father’s, and there will be about a week where their schedules conflict. So, after speaking with your father and assessing his fears and worries, you decide to go alone to this appointment and see where it gets you. 

Does it seem silly that you are looking for the cutest dress to wear to the appointment? Maybe. But Law is freaking eye candy. How can you not want to look good and maybe catch his eye? And the only other thing he saw you in was torn clothes, so this time you want to be presentable. 

Besides, you can't stop thinking about those tattoos… Just how many does he have? How far down do they go? 

Sighing you deem yourself ready. Your father is with his neighbour and friend Benn Beckman, helping him around his property, so you pray your car works, pat it nicely, like your father told you to, and off you go.

Once you enter the clinic, Kaya is ready for you with a wide smile. You can't help but smile back at her, even though you know she is going to tease you about Law. 

“Good morning, Kaya. How are you today?”

She sing-songs your name as she pulls your father's file from the archive on the computer. “I'm doing very well, thank you. Just getting ready for another chapter of my novel!”

You arch an eyebrow, an intrigued smile on your lips. “Oh? What are you reading?”

Kaya giggles with a hand covering her mouth. “A romantic novel about a young doctor who falls in love at first sight with a patient's daughter. It takes her a bit longer to realise he's the love of her life, but she's getting there.”

The unamused look on your face only makes her giggle more. “That's not funny, Kaya.”

“It is to me! I have a bet going on with Shachi and Penguin. It's about you two, but I'm not going to tell you what it is. I have a lot of money riding on this thing, Usopp would kill me.”

As she fills you in about who Usopp is, and you lean on the counter, engrossed in your conversation, you don't sense someone approaching. 

“Nurse Kaya, you are paid to do your job. That does not include idle chitter-chatter with patients. I was calling you so you could let Mr. S. in.” He says your name and his low voice makes it sound like the most beautiful word in the world. “Good morning. I hope you're feeling well.”

“I-... Hmm, hmm!” You cringe internally and hiss through your pursed lips. A college graduation and a master's degree and this is the best you can do? Shit. 

Spying the hint of that sexy smirk he showed you last time, he glances around the waiting room. “No Mr. S.?”

With a heavy sigh you shake your head. “He ‘couldn’t make it’.” You emphasise with an eye roll and air quotes. “But I want to ask some questions to assuage his fears, if that’s alright with you?”

Nodding, he gestures towards his office. “Follow me.”

Your feet immediately follow him without contest. There's just something in the assuredness of his voice that makes you want to do as he says. Not to mention that now every time you do something he asks you to, all you can hear in the back of your head is that slurred, low-vibrato ‘good girl’. And damn it, just thinking about it sends shivers down your spine. 

After entering his office, he follows you, closing the door behind him and sitting across from you, his hands resting against his chin with his fingers entwined. 

The combination of his piercing amber gaze and the hand tattoos is making your heart race and you're glad you're not hooked up to any monitor now. 

“How have you been feeling?” He uses your name again and you gulp, actually thinking before uttering your response so you can articulate a clever answer this time, or an actual answer. 

“Perfectly fine. I'm in good health, Doc. Physically at least because if you could peek at my ebooks or listen to my audiobooks, you would say I'm unhinged!” You snort before regaining composure and cursing internally because that was way more information than necessary. “Fine, I'm fine!” You add with an eye roll. 

What is it with this man and his ability to render your brain into mush? 

“That's good.” You almost have to stifle a whimper. “And how's your father?”

This is a safe topic, so you feel more relaxed as you lean back and cross your legs, forgetting for a moment that you’re wearing a tiny summer dress. 

“His back has been fine, his habits, not so much. I fear he might come back sooner rather than later. And he's so afraid of the surgery that just speaking about it sends him bolting out of the room like lightning. I swear-...”

You stop talking as you notice that Law's hands have risen from his chin and are now covering half of his face leaving only his amber gaze - which is fixed on your bare thighs - and the slightest hint of pink on his cheeks. 

Shit. 

You just gave the doctor a peep show. 

Blushing, you uncross your legs and tuck them neatly to the side, like the old etiquette books demand, resting your hands on your lap as Law realises he was staring. 

Though he seems unfazed. “Well that aligns with what we've seen since discovering the hernia. Mr S. completely ignores caution when moving around and doesn't want to hear anything related to surgery.” He sighs and you tilt your head. So he was paying attention, not just staring at your nearly exposed thighs. 

You reach into your purse and take out your notebook with a sigh. “He has questions. I did some research too, so I jotted down a few more. If he won’t come here, then I need to be reliable enough to give him the right information. I’ve divided the questions by theme and organised them from the most common to the really crazy ones my father came up with and-... what?” You ask, annoyed at the amused look he’s giving you. “Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckles softly as he leans back in his chair. His piercing gaze should be unsettling, but instead, it makes your heart race and leaves you breathless. 

“It's not that. You're a control freak with a need for organisation and planning, and an endless search for perfection. You have high standards and expectations of others, but mostly of yourself. Am I right?”

Your mouth hangs open for a moment before you snap it shut, your cheeks flushing red. He’s right on the money. 

“Is that a proper diagnosis, Doctor?” You ask, crossing your arms in defiance. 

“No, not at all. I'm not a psychiatrist. That was just a random guess.” That damned smirk again. 

“Random?” You raise an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping your lips. 

“No. Not random at all. I tend to always be in control, so I understand it. But, there are ways to just… let go… and relax.” That damn sexy smirk is back again and you realise it does things to you. “But we’ll talk about that some other time, if you’re interested.”

A warmth spreads through your cheeks as your body responds to his intense gaze. 

“How about this, you lend me that notebook and I’ll take a look at all your questions. We won’t tell your father anything, and I’ll make him a house call with the answers. If we ambush him, he’ll have to hear us out.”

Biting your lower lip you run his plan through your mind. It’s flawless. Shanks will be caught by surprise, with no way to escape. 

“Sounds good!” You say smirking as you close the notebook with a light tap. “But I’ve paid for a full consultation. What should we do with the rest of the time?”

He makes a low hum, almost a grunt. Something primal and instinctive that makes your hairs stand on end. But when he speaks, his voice is calm. “The way I see it there are two options. Either I do a full checkup, or you ask for a refund. Which we don't offer.”

Well that isn't fair at all. He’s playing you like a fiddle. 

“Law, you're being unfair. That’s hardly an option at all. I just said I didn't want to waste this consultation.”

When he leans forward, his chin resting on his hands again, giving you a perfect view of his hand tattoos and long, slim fingers, you gasp for breath. 

“No point wasting it. Hop on the table.”

You don't know why your heart keeps pounding at an insane rhythm against your chest, but if you are about to be examined by a doctor, he’ll immediately realise that you're nervous. Still, you get up and do as he says, because, once again, you find it very hard not to obey his commands. 

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm your racing heart, you climb onto the examination table, fixing your eyes on your legs instead of on him. But when he approaches, you realise he's wearing spotted jeans. He looks like a cute leopard. How did you not notice that before? 

“Look at me.”

You do. Shit. What's with his hold on you? 

Law points his flashlight at your eyes, one at a time, testing your pupil reactions. You try to focus on the light, but all you can see is the yellow of his eyes. And he's very close. 

“Follow the light.” He moves it up and down, left and right and you follow it. Your breath keeps coming out in shallow pants and you scream at yourself in your head. You're being ridiculous! This is an exam! A professional one! 

“Now open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue for me.” You swallow hard before complying. In most of your books what follows this command isn’t exactly office appropriate. His gloved hand cups your jaw gently, opening it further as he shines the flashlight into your throat. “Say ah!”

The sound you make is rather sinful. You can't help it. You told Kaya you weren’t interested in men in general and you weren’t interested in Dr. Trafalgar Law in particular. But your body didn’t get the memo your brain sent out. Because you're twitching, throbbing, and clenching. And he is just there. Ready for grabbing and taking. 

But you have to be rational. You’ve just met the man. There's undeniable attraction, but there's no way you'll act on it. However the way his pupils darken at the sound that leaves your lips makes you realise that the attraction is mutual. 

And the two of you could have so much fun together. 

You close your eyes and dig your nails into the examination table, making the paper crinkle and tear beneath your fingers as you ground yourself. 

“You can close your mouth now.” His voice sounds hoarse, so he clears his throat as he takes a step back, removing the stethoscope from around his neck and placing it near his ears, not yet covering them so he can speak with you. 

“I'm going to listen to your heart, lungs and abdomen, checking for murmurs or abnormal noises, is that alright?” 

It's the first time he asks permission to do something and you realise it's because he's going to have to touch you, so he needs consent. “Yes.” Your voice seems weak and distant, charged with desire and want. You're pretty sure he picks up on that tone as well, but he doesn't comment on it. 

He places the stethoscope in his ears and the flat part against your chest. He starts with the lungs. “Deep breath through the nose.” Once again you follow all of his instructions. “Out through the mouth.” He keeps moving the piece on your bare chest and back, repeating the orders. His gloved hands are warm, big and firm and they make you feel things. “Your heart now.” He states and you gulp. Your heart is not going to be beating at a normal rhythm at all. 

He notices immediately as a small chuckle escapes his lips. You drop your gaze to your lap again as you bite your lower lip. “Interesting.” He replies and you don't really ask what he finds interesting, knowing the conversation could veer down very dangerous paths. 

Removing the stethoscope from his ears, he asks you to lie down as he reaches for a sheet, placing it over your lap and covering your legs. “Can you pull up your dress so I can listen to your abdomen?” You notice him asking again. He doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

And you're not. 

“Yeah.”

Adjusting the sheet to cover your panties, you pull the dress to expose your belly and he listens to whatever odd sounds come from it. There's a spot he touches on the side that tickles you and you squirm and twitch with a hearty laugh. He seems surprised and looks at you with a glint in his eyes before resuming the examination. 

“Palpation next. Abdomen first to check for irregularities.” He looks at you for confirmation and you nod. This whole ordeal is overwhelming. You try to look away from his form, his eyes and his hands, but it’s impossible. He’s focused on his task, professional and attentive, yet… There's a hint of mischief in the way he looks at you every time he presses your flesh.

And you can’t help but to blush as your breaths grow more and more ragged. 

“Joints and muscles next.” His hands trace your ankles and calves, then your knees - front and back - before climbing towards your lower thighs. You hold your breath, but he doesn’t go higher. “Sit up.”

“Yes, s-... doctor.” The flush in your cheeks nearly rivals his own. Neither of you expected this reaction. You were about to call him sir? Stupid, stupid, stupid! You should really start reading self-help books instead of filthy smut. But his voice… Law’s voice is deep, assured, commanding! You can barely help the way you want to bend to his words and do everything he asks of you. 

In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s deepening his voice on purpose. He’s been using a more commanding tone since the beginning of the consultation. He probably picked up your little kink when you told him to call you a good girl when you met. And now he’s taking full advantage of it. 

Trying to push the whole ordeal behind you, you sit up and close your eyes, willing your mind to focus on something other than the sheer sensuality of a freaking doctor’s appointment!

He keeps touching and squeezing you. Wrists, elbows and shoulders are next. “You’re doing very well.” He says, adding your name and making you blush even more. If you weren’t sure before, now you are. He’s doing it on purpose. 

And damn, it's working!

“Open your eyes.” You try to fight it, pressing your lips together and shutting them even tighter. “I need you to look at me while I do this, can you?” There’s tenderness beneath the firmness of his voice, and the combination sends shivers down your spine. Yet again, you do as he says and open your eyes, only to find his face directly in front of yours. “Good.”

Fuck. You’re about to declare the time of death for any decency you thought you still had, because the huskiness of his voice is enthralling and mesmerising. 

His tattooed hands wrap around your neck and you gasp, your pupils dilating as your hands grip the paper beneath you. His smirk is no longer veiled as he now knows exactly the effect he’s having on you. His fingers move, pressing against your thyroid and under your jaw, and he lets out a satisfying hum that you instantly want to hear again.

But closer to your ear, much, much closer. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“No nodules, that’s good. Now, take a deep breath, relax. You did very, very well.” You want to scream. You want to cry or smirk or laugh. Anything to express the warmth you feel in your chest from his praise. 

You discovered this little kink of yours some time ago but you were always too fearful to ask Ichiji, your ex-fiancé, to explore it in the bedroom. Ichiji was, by nature, violent and controlling, but in a frightening way. You never meant to tempt or provoke his behaviour intimately. Yet with Law…

Your mind was already picturing all kinds of scenarios, each hotter than the last. You knew, you just knew that you were screwed. There was no way you could get this man out of your head now. 

Even though he was very professional with his touching. It was your head that created all the scenarios. Your horny head!

As he sat down by the computer, typing away notes on your file, you composed yourself by pulling your dress down and passing your fingers through your hair. Taking a deep breath, like he said, to steady your racing heart. 

When your eyes landed on him again, his professional demeanour was back in place, as if it were a cloak he had donned over himself after all this teasing. “Tell me, have you done any palpation of your breasts?”

“What?”

The chuckle that escaped his lips was low and soft. “Self-examination? Looking for nodules or abnormalities. A breast checkup?”

Oh. Dumbass. “Yes, yes! I have. All is well.” With wobbly steps you return to the chair in front of him. 

“Any concerns with your health? Something that feels off, or any indispositions? Headaches, stomachaches, or any other aches?”

You keep shaking your head at his suggestions until a snort escapes your lips at his last suggestion. “Does heartache count?” Then you immediately blush and lower your eyes. Thinking about Ichiji earlier revived very unpleasant sensations within you.

Law stops typing while his piercing gaze returns to you. “I can’t offer any medical assistance for that, per se, but I can always lend an ear, if you ever want to talk about it.” As you glance up, the smirk on his lips is replaced by a stern smile. You nod and mumble a low ‘thank you’. 

“Anything else?” He’s not teasing now, nor being playful. He’s being strictly professional and that makes you realise he was teasing you on purpose during the examination. 

“No, thank you.” Your voice still seems very small. You thought that the mere mention of your ex was not enough to alter your state of mind so much, but it really affected you. Maybe it had something to do with being highly stimulated by all the sensations Law was provoking and then crashing when you came down from that high just by thinking about Ichiji and the heartache he caused you. 

His eyebrows scrunch and he stares at you for a while, waiting for you to add something else. When you remain silent, he gets up. “Okay. You’re all set, then.”

“Thank you, Law.”

And without barely saying goodbye, you hasten out of his office, quickly saying goodbye to Kaya and telling her you have to run some errands and you can talk some more another day - since you already settled the payment when you arrived. 

You had just unlocked your car when you heard your name. It’s Law’s deep rumbling voice again and you almost gasp.

“Law?”

He approaches you without his doctor’s coat on and you blush as your eyes take him in. His t-shirt shows off even more tattoos on his arms. Just how many tattoos does he really have? And why do you want to trace them all?

“Can I have the notebook?” You look at him with a raised brow. “You said you’d leave it with me so I can review the questions.” He says with a slight chuckle at your aloofness. 

“Oh!” Smacking your forehead with your palm, you reach into your purse and hand him the notebook with a slight shake of your head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He takes it in his hand and fidgets with the ribbon from the page marker. He looks slightly embarrassed and you don’t know what to make of it, since he seemed so sure of himself in his office. “Did… did I go too far?”

The look on your face is one of surprise. Does he think you’re acting like this because of his teasing?

“No!” You almost scream. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you try to compose yourself. “Not at all! You were very…” Endearing? Seductive? Sexy? Irresistible? “Professional. I’m just…” Another chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a sigh and a dismissive gesture. “I’m a mess! I’m still terribly affected by my past relationship and-... well, thinking about him stirred up some bad memories. I’m sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s completely understandable.” He seems much more at ease now that he’s sure you weren’t weirded out by all the teasing. 

“I’ll be reviewing these, then. I’ll make sure to schedule a house call so we can surprise your father.” 

“Oh!” You gasp in surprise as you reach for the notebook again, fishing a pen from your purse and quickly scribbling your number on one of the pages. “There’s my number. If it’s a surprise visit we don’t want Shanks to be the one to answer the phone.” 

Your easy smile makes him chuckle as he, once again, takes the notebook, tucking it neatly under his arm. “All right. See you soon?”

You nod. “Yes, Law, thank you.” He nods back but, before leaving, he reaches behind you, his arm grazing your side as he opens the car door for you. Such a random, simple gesture has you blushing, and once again thinking about how, in four years of relationship, not once had Ichiji held a door open for you. 

Muttering a muffled ‘thank you’, you climb into your seat. Law says goodbye again before closing the door to the car and walking away. 

You let out the biggest sigh to ever escape your lips as your head falls forward against the steering wheel. 

Why did your father’s doctor have to be so freaking hot?

|Chapter 2|

[yayll]

Hi!! It’s my first time requesting something so I dont know how that works.. um I was thinking of some mission like some kind of ball that dazai and y/n has to go and y/n has to seduce someone to get information out of them. You know those masquerade balls? Yeah I think that really goood!! And dazai gets sooooooooo jealous and after she got the information dazai kiss her infront of that person to show him that she’s his😭😭😭😭😭😭omg

HIII angel sorry this took me a while, but i hope you like it :') i tweaked your idea a lil and fingers crossed this is what you so graciously asked for. i tried to put my best jealous goofy ass dazai in there along with the absolute MUSH his brain turns into when he has you to himself mixed with a lil........ fucked in the headness. i love requests! this was soooo fun to write i love youuuuuu <3

~ a little something about Dazai and his uncharacteristic jealousy ~

"Osamu, come on... You're my only sweetheart, you know that."

You call out half sweetly and half out of breath as you follow him down the hallway of the lavish event you were currently attending, dressed to the nines and trying to remain undercover. You were coming to realize why people didn't date within the workplace as he walked ahead, grumbling to himself. He's trying to remain unfazed, pretending to still be upset as he shrugs with his back turned to you.

"Hmph. I dunno, I don't feel like I'm your 'sweet' anything..."

This causes you to roll your eyes affectionately and pick up the pace, placing a hand on the back of his shoulder to finally stop him in his tracks. You flash him a sincere smile, and speak softly.

"I'm really sorry you had to see that. I didn't know that asshole was going to kiss me after he let me go. I also didn't think you'd ever get jealous..."

You say that last part with a more playful tone, treading dangerous waters of your unpredictable lover's emotions. As expected, he sighs dramatically, casting you a look of disgust.

"Ugh, of course I'm not... That's honestly sooo lame and pathetic. I can entertain jealousy as much as I can entertain one of Kunikida's little speeches on morals, or whatever."

"You mean his 'ideals'?"

You chide, stifling a laugh. He glares at you, his eyes narrowing as he scans you for a moment.

He can't find a single flaw on that precious face, not a single stray hair or stain on your exquisite outfit. He should change that by the end of the night.

"... You're always so negative, correcting me and whatnot. Isn't it tiring being so irritatingly superior in every way?"

This one gets a laugh out of you, You can tell he's slowly lightening up his mood by the way you both begin walking side by side once again.

"Yeah well, if it weren't for that little kiss earlier, we'd both still be all tied up in the wine cellar of this wonderful party."

He flashes you a pout, and shrugs dismissively.

"And here I thought you of all people would like the idea of being tied up with me. Hmph, wrong partner, I suppose."

Now he was starting to pick back at you, though it was cute. Jealousy looked cute on him, it was something you didn't think he was capable of. It was a pity it had to be during a mission where your main asset was your seduction skills and his was mental instability. You hated every second of it, but you also wanted to make sure you both made it out with the secret intel alive.

You make your way into the grand ballroom, the gala is in full swing, and your eyes dart around to find a proper escape route. Just as you see an exit, a handsome and well dressed young man blocks your view, sticking his hand out.

"Hi. You're gorgeous. Care for a dance?"

You stare down at his hand and then back up at the stranger, your face flushing as you're caught off guard.

"Me? No, no I-"

Dazai immediately interjects, sloppily holding a glass of champagne that somehow manifested in his hand and pretends to be drunk. He loved his theatrics, especially when he was desperate.

He bumps harshly into the young man's shoulder, the alcohol sloshing out of the cup as he slurs, but not before he flashes you a wink to tell you to play along.

"Sooo sorry, pardon me. This indeed beautiful angel is quite busy you see... Taking care of me that is. Ooh, I'm a wreck! I'm nothing but a sad and lonely dog.. In this sad and lonely world-"

The man looks at Dazai skeptically, and huffs into a chuckle. He shoves him away, and turns his attention back to you. Your eyes dart nervously between the two, wondering what Dazai will do next.

"Shut it, clown.. Anyway, I think this further proves you should be in the company of a gentleman like me tonight rather than this wet mop-"

The sound of a champagne flute soaring through the air and connecting to the man's skull is suddenly heard, interrupting him and sending him falling to the ground along with broken glass and liquid everywhere. In one swift motion, Dazai is at your side with a premature victorious smirk, but before you can both be on your way, the man regains his posture and spins him around, punching him square in the face. Dazai's not scrawny or weak, but he isn't the most skilled fighter, relying mostly on his special ability and intelligence to get him out of things.

You gasp, instinctively grabbing Dazai by the collar of his suit and dragging him away to get lost in the crowd of concerned people. You finally make it outside and you both collapse onto the soft grass just outside the venue. It's decorated with all kinds of flowers and fragrant rose bushes, it almost looks like you're at the garden of Versailles. You look over at Dazai, his nose bleeding all over the place, but he looks completely unbothered by it. As you reach over to touch the bridge of his nose, he grabs your wrist and holds it away gently. He waves a finger at you.

"No touchy, I've got it."

He does not, in fact, got it. He looks around until he plucks a rose petal and uses it to wipe his nostrils. You frown, getting all up in his space within an instant.

"What on earth are you doing, Osamu? Let me help, you goofball. Your nose is a mess thanks to that stunt you pulled."

You tear off a bit of fabric from your outfit and dab his skin tenderly, holding his head on your lap now. You can see some blood has trailed down his neck, staining the bandages there along with the collar of his crisp white dress shirt you picked out for him this morning. Dazai perks up, his voice slightly strained but full of lightheartedness.

"How does it feel to work with the agency's most tactical and covert operative? Eh?~"

You bite back a smile, and shake your head. You murmur.

"Feels like he's asking for a death wish a little more than usual."

Your lips soon become a thin line, realizing your statement hurts a little more in the context of the situation than it usually would. He notices your mood shift as his eyes flicker from your concerned eyes down to your lips and back up again. He knows it hurts you when he's like this, reckless and acting out on the impulses of his own plans. He wants to sit up and close the gap between you, kiss you until you drop down those brave walls you're putting up for the sake of the mission. For the sake of your feelings for him. He knows he's careless with it all.

He hums, eyes trained on you as if burning the image of your heavenly self into his mind, where you always deserve to be. In the distance, a bulky sketchy looking man runs out of the venue frantically, looking around wildly and you both get the impression it's the guy from the cellar earlier who kissed you in exchange for your freedom.

Shit! You could have sworn you knocked him out cold. Dazai sits up from your lap and you two scoot more into the bush, trying to hide from him as he makes a call. You mutter under your breath, turning to Dazai as you begin to type something out on your communicator.

"Now's the perfect time to let the others know we're ready for extraction."

He's already looking at you, or gazing admiringly more like. He knows he can fuck up everything, pay any consequence, but the thing he needs to get right for the selfishness of his wretched little heart is you. He scoots a bit closer, hearing the sounds of both your shallow breaths harmonizing. He mutters, softly.

"It would also be the perfect time for you to kiss my face better. You know, for my wellness and all that. Besides, that guy wasn't very nice to us earlier and we need to get rid of any traces of him from those lips. Yuck."

You roll your eyes yet again, despite the fluttering that won't let your stomach rest.

"Who cares about that, we have a case to close first."

He smirks, voice dropping low and provocative.

"I care."

He leans in even further, practically caging you with both arms on either side of you. He can feel your breathing become more erratic, his own filled with a pathetic sense of need he always has when he's with you. Dazai's hand reaches out and grabs your chin, turning it up slightly to face him, making sure you drop this silly act once and for all. His voice comes out gentle, firm.

"I need you to physically push me away, or I swear I'm going to kiss you right now, cutie."

Your eyes widen as you let a shaky breath escape your plush lips, murmuring in return.

"I'll.. punch you in the nose again, you know..."

His hand moves from your chin to the side of your face, cupping your cheek as he takes another breath, his body aching to be as close to yours as possible. His eyes are fixed on you, tearing you apart right then and there, but not before putting you back together so nicely. In that moment, he knows you don't mean that, and he knows he can't resist anymore.

He then whispers with a finality, the anticipation torturing him like you do on a daily basis.

"I don't think I'm going to listen to that..."

You break into a faint smile as you perceive him back.

"You've still got a little blood on your-"

Without another word, Dazai closes the remaining distance between you and him, kissing you with fervor as his soft whines reverberate against your lips. You taste sweetness and then... metallic as your lips mesh together for a heavenly moment. He feels alive, this was what he needed, the soothing balm for his soul and any other wound only you could provide. He's like a vampire, a parasite leeching off of your very essence so he could be himself around you. Cowardly burrowing into the safety of your heart. You squirm just a tad, your fingers carding through his brown hair as you try to keep up. He pulls back after his nose can't push more air through and keeps his lips hovering over yours, feeling the heat from your mouth mingle with his as he sees your lips stained red with his blood. Just as he's going to comment on how disgustingly erotic it is to see you like that, he pushes away the indecent thoughts, using the bandage on his wrist to wipe your mouth instead.

"Okay, I'll be good for now. You can call for extraction.~"

It was a dumb thing to do and could be seen as him being territorial or jealous, but the reality of it was that it was the natural order of things when it came to the way he processed his affections. Someone gets in between the two of you in any way?

An uglier and more dangerous past version of himself would have called for an immediate execution, there was a reason he held the titles that he did. He did his very best to keep that mentality at bay, rebuking it every time he felt a dark urge that he felt needed to be dealt with, mostly for your sake and for the sake of the promise he made to a friend once. Though he can't lie and say that's not who he is anymore, he can always find a better way to get his point across... even if a wishful bullet to the head comes out in the form of a kiss on your precious lips. He'll try for you. He'll wear the fastidious label proudly and be Dazai, a jealous man.

[kiiwiigii]

Complicated 

Virgin!Edward x Stripper!Fem!Reader 

Summary: A young man saves you from a creep at work… you decide to repay his kindness. 

Warnings: 

NSFW 18+ 

Smut 

Virgin Eddie-boy 

Word Count: 2.5k+ 

Requested?: For Kinktober! 

Virginity with Edward 😝 I wanna ride him and take his virginity 

A/N: I fucking KNEW it'd be Edward for virginity. I knew it.

The lights in the club whirred and pulsed, music thumping out an obnoxious rhythm. The bass pounded through my chest, shaking my ribs like bells. Smoke filled the air, obscuring the stage where I usually danced. Most of the men, and occasional women, who watched and frequented the club were respectful. Stripping wasn't easy, but it paid the bills, so I couldn't really complain. Every now and then someone did get a little handsy, though, like the asshole who was currently making another grab for my ass. 

"Billy." I gave an awkward smile as I stepped out of reach. "Nice to see you again." 

"Oh come on, Candy. Don't be that way." 

It was all I could do not to glare at him. This was the third time this week that he'd been in here, and the fifth time that he'd tried to grab my ass. Billy was a regular, both fortunately and unfortunately. He always requested lap dances, and he gave good tips, but in exchange, he liked to feel you up, especially when he was drunk. 

Most girls put up with it, but I was not one of them. After the first request from him, I conveniently had other patrons to attend to during his visits. Although tonight it was rather empty, so that excuse wasn't going to fly. As someone who loathed confrontation, I dreaded telling Billy that I wasn't interested in attending to him. 

But I had to suck it up and put my big girl pants on. 

 "Billy, I'm sorry, but I don't feel like dancing tonight." 

"C'mon, Candy." He reached out and grabbed me roughly by the arm. "You're never available. No one else is here tonight." 

I looked down at his hand clasped around my forearm, a spark of fear and irritation running through me. 

"I said no, Billy. And I ask that you respect that." 

Billy's hand tightened around my arm, and I let out a hiss of pain. There would surely be a bruise there in the morning. I opened my mouth to tell him to piss off, when a pale hand came into view, grasping his wrist. 

"The lady said no. Now release her, please." 

The voice was smooth and deep, and I looked up to see a young man with dark hair and light eyes. He was unnaturally beautiful, with sharp angular features that pulled me in. He could have easily been a supermodel. Who knows? Maybe he was. 

"And just who did you think you are?" 

"Billy," I warned. "let go or-" 

I let out a yelp as Billy squeezed harder. "Shut up, whore." 

Just as quickly as he had done it, he was pulling back, howling, and cradling his wrist. I jumped at the sudden movement, eyes widening at the sight of it. It was already purple and swollen. It looked broken. 

The young man angled himself in front of me, blocking Billy from my view and putting a hand on my back protectively. It was the lightest of touches, but I could still feel the chill from his hand. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, eyes roaming over my face before flicking down at my arm. 

I immediately grasped my arms and cleared my throat, suddenly self-conscious. 

"What's going on here?" It was Steven, one of the club's bouncers. 

"Billy here was just leaving-" I started. 

"THAT BASTARD BROKE MY WRIST." Billy howled at the top of his lungs. 

Steven grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back, shoving him towards the door. 

"Serves you right, Billy. You've been harassing these girls long enough. Now get out and go to the hospital man." 

I watched as they both disappeared down the hallway towards the exit. Rubbing my arms, I turned back to the young man at my side to find him already watching me. I gave him a small, nervous smile. 

"Thank you." 

"You are most welcome." 

After a beat of awkward silence, I nodded my head and turned to leave. This was enough excitement for tonight, perhaps the boss would let me go home early- 

"Wait!" 

I turned to look back at the man, his hand running through his dark hair. 

"Are- are you seeing anyone right now? I mean, attending to anyone right now?" 

His nervousness seeped into his voice, and I was surprised by how bashful he looked. I turned back to him and flashed him another small smile. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a complete bust after all. 

"Not currently, no. Did you want some company?" 

"Uhm… yeah. My brothers over there, they- they uh- paid for some time upstairs…" He trailed off sheepishly, throwing a thumb back towards a table with two other men who were watching us closely. 

I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows. His whole family must be gorgeous because hot damn. All three looked fine. I turned back toward my potential patron to find him smirking at me like there was something he knew that I didn't. I shrugged it off. 

"What's your name, hun?" I asked him. 

"Edward." 

I nodded my head and held out my hand. "Come on then, handsome. It's the least I can do for you saving me anyways." 

His hand was oddly chilly in mine, but I found that I liked it given the insufferable heat of the club. Halfway up the stairs, we heard one of his brothers call out. 

"Get it Eddie-boy! We'll see you when you get home!" 

I looked at Edward questioningly, but he just glared at his brothers as they started gathering their things to leave. 

"They're leaving you here alone?" I asked in surprise. 

"It's… complicated." 

I simply nodded in understanding and continued with him on our way up the stairs until we reached the top, a long, dark hallway scattered with doors stretching before us. I led him to one of the nicer rooms that overlooked the club. While it had a nice view, it was relatively quiet, the thumping bass a low background noise. A plush couch was against the back wall, along with two chairs on either side. A glass table in the middle held a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne. 

"Champagne?" I asked, lifting the bottle. 

"No thank you." 

I could tell he was nervous, so I decided to take it easy with him. It looked like the poor boy had never even been inside a strip club before. And that very well could be the case. I led him over to the couch, pushing him into it gently before straddling him, my arms coming up to wrap around his neck as I pressed my breasts into his chest ever so slightly. His hands gripped my hips. 

"You- you don't have to do anything. I'd just like to enjoy your company." 

I paused, looking at him quizzically. No one had ever requested a private room just to talk. Unless he meant the "enjoy your company" in a whole other way. 

Edward sighed. "Like I said, it's complicated." 

"So, how complicated is complicated?" 

"My brothers think that I need to get laid." 

"Oh?" I quirked a brow at him. "When was the last time you got laid?" 

There was a brief silence before he cleared his throat. "Never." 

He looked away as I gaped at him. 

"Never?" 

Edward shook his head, his hands tightening around my hips in an almost painful grip. I winced a little before he let go, mumbling a quick series of apologies. 

I found it hard to believe that this man had never had sex. He was too good-looking. Maybe… maybe he had been in an intense relationship that had gone wrong? 

I saw him flinch and I pulled back just a little. 

"I'm sorry." I breathed, trying to calm his nerves, and mine. 

"It's alright. I- I just didn't expect it to be this hard." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 

I chewed on my bottom lip thoughtfully, studying his features now that he was looking away from me. Now that we weren't in the multicolored lights of the club, I could see that his hair was a bronze color, perfectly tousled as if he had just rolled out of bed. His skin was the palest I had ever seen, but it was perfect, and his eyes. His eyes were a gorgeous gold, a color I had never seen before. He was beautiful. 

I had never had sex with a patron before, but the other girls did it all the time. I certainly wouldn't mind taking Edward for a ride. He wouldn't even have to pay me. 

I felt myself blush, embarrassed at my train of thought. I bit down on my lip again to bring myself back to reality. 

"Please." Edward's voice was husky, snapping me out of my thoughts quickly. "Please stop biting your lips." 

I looked down at him, and seeing the pleading expression on his face sent my heart racing. Suddenly my decision was made. 

"Okay," I breathed leaning forward, right next to his ear. "But only if you bite them for me." 

I felt him still underneath me, hands tightening on my hips yet again. I wondered for a brief moment if I had pushed him too far when one of his icy hands came up to cup my neck and bring me in for a deep kiss. 

I couldn't help but gasp at the sudden movement, and he groaned in response. 

He sucked on my lower lip, nipping it roughly before trailing his tongue along the inside. I moaned, my hands coming up to grip his hair, pushing him harder into my mouth. I could suddenly feel his cock, nice and thick between my legs, the hardness sending a shiver down my spine. 

I whimpered against his lips. My own body was reacting to him, and I could feel my pussy starting to pulse with desire. 

He broke the kiss hesitantly, trailing kisses down my throat, skimming his teeth along my pulse point softly. I swiveled my hips against him and was rewarded with a groan as he nuzzled into my shoulder, suddenly tense. 

"Edward." I said softly, my hands tightening in his hair just a little. "If you don't feel comfortable doing this, I understand." 

"I want you." He said quietly. "I'm just having a hard time containing myself." 

"Is that so?" I smirked at him. "Well, I can assure you that I'm not going to break, darling." 

Edward's hands found their way back to my waist, giving my plump hips a nice squeeze. I pulled one of his hands away and put it on my breast. 

"I'm all yours, Edward." 

Edward sucked in a harsh breath. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them back up. His eyes had darkened, the gold now looking almost black. He gave my breast a good, hard squeeze as his thumbs brushed against my nipples, sending a wave of pleasure through me. His touch was electric, sending tingles down my spine as he turned to massaging my breasts more gently, teasing my nipples until they were hard. 

He pushed the straps of my bra aside, the lace falling down as he cupped my bare breast in his hand. He took my nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking. I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily. 

This is not what I had expected from a virgin. Not in the slightest. 

His hand slid down my stomach to between my legs, his fingers slipping past my lacy panties and inside me. I moaned, my hips automatically moving in time with his fingers. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to orgasm, the pleasure building quickly inside of me. 

Just when I was about to come, Edward pulled his hand out and abruptly stopped, his breathing coming in harsh pants. I looked at him in confusion, my own chest heaving with exertion. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine in a bruising kiss. 

He pulled back, his eyes looking almost feverish. 

"Please," He begged, his hands keeping their tight grip on my hips. "I need to be inside of you. Now." 

I grinned at him, pushing him back onto the couch. I eased my hand down his chest until I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants and slowly started to pull them open, revealing his hard cock. 

Fuck, he was big. 

I could feel his erection pressing against my pussy, begging for entrance. I took his cock in my hand, rubbing it through my juices almost tauntingly. 

"Candy-" 

"Y/N." 

Edward looked up at me, eyes glazed over but still trying to comprehend. 

"Y/N." He repeated. 

I shivered as he said my name. My actual name. 

"If I'm going to take your virginity, Edward, I want you moaning my actual name." I winked at him. 

He groaned, and I felt his cock twitch against my entrance. 

"You're going to have to be a little more patient, darling." I said, before lowering myself down onto his cock, inch by inch. He hissed in pleasure, his hands coming up to grip my hips yet again. 

"You're so tight." He groaned, his head falling back against the couch. "So fucking tight." 

I leaned forward, pressing my breasts against his chest as I rode him slowly. He was so big, and yet he felt so good. He was angled just right, hitting my sweet spot and causing me to moan when he began to thrust ever so slightly. 

My head fell back in pleasure as he reached up to grasp my breasts again, pinching and pulling at my nipples. I whimpered as I began to feel the heat pool in my lower belly, my clit starting to pulse when I reached down to circle the small nub. 

"You look so beautiful." 

I looked at Edward in surprise, feeling the heat from the blush creeping up my face. He was staring at me, his eyes dark with passion. 

"So fucking beautiful." He said hoarsely, his grip tightening around my hips. 

He teased my hardened nipples with his lips, then pulled one of them into his mouth. He rolled it between his teeth and bit down gently until the waves of pain mixed with pleasure so that I could no longer tell one from the other and both lost their meaning. His fingers ran softly up my stomach as he cupped my breasts in his hands. 

"Edward." I moaned. "I'm- I'm gonna come." 

His hips jerked faster, his cock spasming inside of me as I felt my orgasm building. It tightened the coil within me, pulling the pleasure up from my gut until every muscle was strung tight. My eyes flew open, and I gasped as I came, stars bursting behind my lids. Edward's body tensed, his chest tightening as he filled me with his seed. 

My body shuddered as pleasure coursed through me. My pussy clenched like a vise around Edward's thick cock, and he groaned out from the sudden tightness. I came hard, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. 

I felt limp now, completely and utterly spent as I slumped forward onto Edward, who wrapped his arms tight around me, one chilled hand rubbing soothing circles as we both tried to catch our breaths. 

"Are you sure you're a virgin?" I asked half-heartedly. 

Edward just laughed. 

"Well, I was."

{Kinktober} // {Masterlist}

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[heartthrobin]

press your tulips to mine

steven grant x female!reader

wc: 4.6k

warnings: mutual pining, steven is a shy babygirl, marc playing wingman (but he's kinda terrible at it cause he's also falling in love), no jake (the crowd is booing), no khonshu, steven still works at the museum, post mk s1, no use of y/n

an: rewatched the whole of mk last night and needed to write about my dearest stevie :)) don't forget to repost to support your fav writers

summary: Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.

Steven Grant had never given much thought to flowers.

Sure, he could offer a momentary appreciation for a flicker of yellow growing out the cracks in London sidewalks or maybe if he passed a house with a particularly impressive rose bush he could smile, but beyond that flowers remained mostly inconsequential.

Steven never had girlfriends in high school, or - to be frank - thereafter either.

He’d never had to pick out a bouquet, one that he would need to consider: does this match her eyes? will it match her dress? how does it smell?

In the face of discovering that he was unalone in the occupancy of his five foot nine frame and fighting in the name of an Egyptian moon-god, Steven had less time than ever to consider his frighteningly barren love life or the lack of interest in flowers on account of it.

Isn’t life funny? In the way that we look so far beyond ourselves for answers, when sometimes they’re just around the corner.

Specifically the corner one street over from the museum.

Steven had walked the path to work plenty of times. A designated route. In the days when he still worked at the gift shop, the same route now that he’d been bumped up to tour guide.

Until one otherwise unimportant morning when construction bound his usual way, forcing him a walk further around the block: adding another four minutes to his trip and a view of the quaint shops down Little Russel street.

He hadn’t been down there in months. His last venture had been in search of a pharmacy for sleeping tablets, when Khonshu was still a nightmare and Marc nothing more than a migraine.

Steven noticed first that the pharmacy no longer stood. In fact, the previously white brick face of it’s stand had been painted a lush lemonade-pink. The Petal Parlour.

Almost immediately, in just about the same breath, Steven’s eyes found a woman leaned over a broom and sweeping the edge of the shop step. She was humming, he could just make out a Stevie Wonder tune.

The morning light flickered off your hair as if off the face of a pond out in a beautiful garden. An elderly man passed your work, uttering a greeting, and you'd perked up with a melodic: "good morning Mr B!"

Steven's footfalls stalled down the sidewalk. A man crashed into his back, strewing the contents of his messenger bag around him. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He'd seethed at him.

By the time Steven had looked up, you'd already retreated back into the shop. He could make out your outline through the stained glass front.

There hadn't been a day since that Steven had taken his normal, considerably shorter, route to work. He got up five minutes earlier each day, brushed his teeth, made a cup of tea and let the memory of you swim behind his eyes. He could hear Marc's sighs every time.

Most mornings you were inside. Steven would deflate when he rounded the block to an empty corner, but he refused to consider it a total loss because - more often than not - he could make out your figure beyond the window fiddling with petunias on a shelf or smiling at a customer.

Some mornings, when he found himself most lucky, you'd be outside the shop. Usually clipping stray leaves off the rows of bouquets that glimmered happily at the people passing down the street. When it rained, Steven was privy to the way your hair clung to your forehead and the smudge of black mascara beneath your eyes. In the sunlight your arms were exposed from under a pink work shirt and a soil-stained apron.

It went like that for nearly a month. Between Steven and Marc's alternating schedules, he learned to appreciate the slim sightings of you he could manage. Marc didn't make it any easier, mind you, with the way he would whine and complain into Steven's ear.

"Jesus, Steven, just go up to her and say hi!"

Once or twice, Marc had managed to gain control of Steven's legs: teetering him drunkenly in your direction.

The fright would rise quickly up in Steven's chest, steering his legs back in the direction he was walking. You'd looked up one of those times, meeting his eye and spilling out a soft laugh that dissolved into a syrupy smile, but he'd rushed off before you could say anything.

Steven's face stayed red that whole day. "See. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Marc jeered.

"That was mortifying." He muttered back.

The bus rocked beneath his feet and his palm was growing sweaty around the pole he was using to steady himself. Frost was creeping up at the edge of the window he was watching out of.

"Okay, so all you're going to do is go in there and ask for ... help with something." Marc clarified again, his voice echoing around Steven's head.

He'd been bugging Steven since he was brushing his teeth before bed the previous night, something about how "I can't handle any more of this, please Steven. Put me out of my misery."

"Help with what?" Steven whispered. A woman looked up at him from her seat. He smiled shyly, turning away from her.

"I don't know ... tell her you're looking to buy some roses. Tell her it's someone's birthday."

Steven nodded slowly to himself. "Okay ... okay."

Marc had worked hard over the last twelve hours at convincing him. The endeavour was initially futile, but after Marc threatened to go in there and ask her out himself with a - frankly insulting - cockney accent, Steven was left with limited options.

He rounded the corner with wobbly legs and The Petal Parlour loomed in the distance. A bunch of sunflowers taunted him with swaying faces.

It drew ever closer and Steven's heart was beating loudly in his throat. The pink brick was crossing his vision now, his footsteps growing heavier, faster, past the floral print on the window--

"Steven don't even think about it--"

Against Steven's will, his legs knotted around each other: collapsing his body in the direction of the white painted door. It crashed open and Marc, more than Steven, caught his body before it hit the tiled floor inside the shop.

"Oh my god, are you alright?"

The shop was cramped now that he'd gotten his first glimpse inside and the three people crowding the space had their eyes on him.

As if appearing from a mirage, you pressed past the people towards him. He nodded frantically, the scalding touch of embarrassment burned his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah ... I'm fine."

Your earrings jingled from where your head was tilted to inspect him. Ringed fingers pressed down over your soil-covered apron. "Okay then, if you're sure."

Your concerned brow dissolved slowly and that syrupy smile he'd seen pointed in other's directions was suddenly overwhelming him with it's warmth. "Well then, can I help you find anything? Are you looking for some arrangement in particular?"

Steven nodded dumbly, he was fidgeting with the edge of his coat. "Yeah ... I'm looking for, uhm..."

"Birthday!" Marc called from somewhere deep in his mind.

"Birthday!" Steven spluttered loudly. There followed a quiet moment of confusion dripping between you and him.

"Jesus, Steven."

Your giggles crumbled into the space before Steven had the ability to conjure more words.

"I-- I'm sorry, I'm being rude ..." Laugher spilt between your words and your cheeks were turning a soft pink, "you want something for a birthday?"

An embarrassed smile had reached up into the corners of Steven's mouth. He liked the tinkle of your laughter, half convinced he could get drunk off the sound. A molecule of pride floated in his chest knowing that he was responsible for it.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, yes." Steven nodded, fidgeting with the bag strap over his shoulder. "Someone's birthday."

"Well, we just gotten some new arrangements in this morning ..." You turned on him, steering across the little shop to a orange, yellow and pink stacked shelf. He followed you tentatively, trying to pretend that he didn't smell perfume where you moved past him. Pretend that it wasn't making his knees buckle.

"They're pretty." He said quietly. You smiled again. You're pretty, he thought.

"Focus!" Marc's sharp voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Who's birthday is it?"

Steven's tongue lodged back into his airways. "Uhm--"

"Oh shit ... uh, say--!"

"My girlfriend's."

"Not girlfriend, you idiot!"

"Oh, alright--" Your hands fidgeted with your necklace, eyes wide.

"My sister." Steven interrupted you again, the argument in his brain between his thoughts and Marc’s voice was rattling his resolve. "I ... not my girlfriend, I don't have ... I don't have a girlfriend."

"You don't have a sister either." Marc quipped.

Steven ignored him. You were watching him with another smile flirting at your lips. "Okay, well, do you know what kind of flowers she likes? Or have an idea of what you want?"

Steven shrugged, head wobbling into a shake. "Uh no ... what kind do you like?"

You seemed taken back by his question. "Oh. Well, I like the tulips. The yellow ones, especially, but they're tough to find around here ... they have tons in Netherlands and Turkey, which not many people know because everyone thinks of them--"

Steven was sure you could see the little birds floating around his head, and how his pupils turned to tiny black hearts: maybe that's why you stopped.

You blushed a velvety red.

"I'm sorry ..." you turned back, hiding your warm face to wave your hand over the shelf of stacked bouquets. "We have some orchids and some irises if you think she might like them?"

"Yes." Steven nodded, hands folding over each other. His eyes were trailing the outline of your profile, savouring the closeness he'd finally been granted. "Those ... they're beautiful. She'll like them."

Your eyes twinkled where you nodded and it made his stomach churn. "Great."

He lingered patiently by the register while you wrapped the flowers with careful hands.

"Say," your gaze flickered up between him and the brown paper. "Do you work around here? I'm sure I've seen you passing in the morning sometimes."

Steven's breath tripped in his throat. She noticed me?

"Yes, now answer her." Marc's voice rung again.

"I-- yeah, I work by the museum actually." His voice stumbled nervously from the back of his throat.

"Oh really? That's so cool!" Your voice lilted with a pitch of interest. "I really like their exhibit on the liberation of India from English colonial regimes. I've only been once or twice though."

Chest buzzing delightfully, Steven nodded. He knew the one you were referencing, it was a couple corridors down from the Egyptian exhibits.

"Well, you should definitely come see the Ancient Egyptian section. The exhibit is huge and we have hundred year old pieces, sarcophaguses and vases and slabs of cave walls with carved hieroglyphics. I work there and it's really the most fascinating--"

"Let her respond, Steven."

But you seemed content to allow him to continue his splurge, your eyes warm and gentle where it caressed over Steven's face. He stopped talking, winding off embarrassed.

"So, uh, yeah."

"You've made a very good case. Maybe I will come visit." You nodded, fingers stroking absently at the edge of the counter. "If you promise me a tour?"

Warm blood rose up from his chest and pooled in his cheeks. "Of course. Anytime."

You handed him the flowers over the stretch of counter. "I never caught your name?"

"Steven." He said quickly, dejection gathering in his throat at the fact that your interaction was nearing a close. "G-Grant. Steven Grant."

You nodded. "Nice name. It's very James Bond."

"Thanks."

"Ask her name!" Marc poked at the back of his brain.

"Uh-- and you are?"

"Oh!" your eyes fell down to your chest where the corner of your stained apron was obscuring the sharpened edge of your name-tag. You shifted it for him to see.

Steven's eyes followed over the letters, he tried your name out on his tongue. It tasted sweeter than he thought a name ever could, rolling off his lips like a song or a bird whistling on a summer evening.

"It's ... it's a beautiful name."

You blushed, eyes moving back to the keyboard for momentary solace before paralysing him with your warm gaze again. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you 'round Stevie."

His mind whirred with how casually the little nickname slipped from you. "Yeah, yeah you will ..."

Leaving the store, Marc called from between the sludge of Steven's muddy mind.

"Good job, Stevie."

-

Steven was consumed by the interaction the whole rest of the day and when then next morning loomed overhead, he could hardly believe his luck when you were pinching together some lilacs out on the front step where he passed.

Half convinced by the nauseating twist in his stomach to just march quietly past, the decision was made for him when you glanced up from the flowers and offered him a friendly wave: “good morning, Stevie!”

His brain dissolved into a warm, gloopy mess. “… Morning.”

-

In the coming weeks, Steven’s apartment had become a botanical garden of epic proportions.

Vases and cups and pots, and whatever he could fit a flower into, lined his kitchen counters and his shelves and his bathroom sink with every possible kind of flower that The Petal Parlour had to offer.

Marc grumbled most days, in search of a coffee mug or apartment keys between what he described the “Amazon jungle in here.”

But Steven paid him little mind. It was a harmless jab and Steven noticed in the reflection of the shop’s stained glass window how Marc watched you too, eyes glazed with a soft affection. He mentioned nothing of it to Marc.

Steven had begun frequenting the shop when he could, on mornings he got up early enough or afternoons when the day’s work brought soil stains across your ruddy, tired cheeks.

He’d bought flowers for every possible celebration to be had in London, seemingly nabbing an invite to each one. Bat mitzvahs, birthdays, weddings, farewells, funerals: he’d bought bouquets for one of each kind.

Each visit would play out similarly. He’d step into the shop, maybe once a week or every other week - with Marc muttering somewhere in his mind, we’re hardly gonna be able afford groceries at this rate - and you’d beam at him from behind the counter or from beneath a brightly coloured shelf.

“What’s up, Stevie?”

The nickname made him shiver every time.

“Let me guess … Christmas in July?” You’d tease.

When he’d find you behind the counter, that was his favourite, because you’d lean lazily over it. It blessed him with the view down the slope of your nose, the smell of your fading perfume, the jingle of your clinking earrings.

“Baby shower.” It comes out almost as a question, curling upward at the end.

You’d giggle softly. “Right. Boy or girl?”

It had been long enough that Steven could just about draw out your work schedule.

Fridays you didn’t work, Sundays and Tuesdays you only clocked in the afternoon. He tracked it with the little greetings he got, or didn’t get, as he passed on the way to or from the museum.

“You know,” Marc was fronting an early morning in August, subjecting Steven to a cup of coffee. He hated the stale taste it left in his mouth. “We’re quickly approaching, if not already long surpassed, the point where you need to actually ask her on a date. You know that right?”

Steven remained quiet in the depths of Marc’s mind.

He stayed like that until Marc had cleaned out the mug and stuck a wet toothbrush into his mouth.

“Can I please just get ready for work now?” Steven muttered after nearly twenty minutes of silence.

Marc huffed, letting his eyes roll back and the toothbrush dangle from his lips.

Steven shook out his shoulders, Marc was always so tense. “Thank you.”

It was only when he’d passed the flower shop that he remembered that it was Friday. A group of school kids were expected at the museum around nine that morning.

He was almost grateful for your absence, it allowed him to wallow in Marc’s words for at least one more day. He should ask you out, god does he want to.

The day passed like most of them do.

The school children were rowdy and mostly impartial to the magnificent feats of Ancient Egyptian architecture, but he took another tour around two o’ clock with three couples and a family who were significantly, thankfully, more engaging.

Steven had just wrapped up the hour, on the tail end of explaining how do we know what hieroglyphics mean? to the man who’d asked, when a flitter of shifting fabric floated past the back of his head.

Emerging like a bottle-green wet dream, Steven's gaze found you drifting under the arch between rooms. Your eyes alight in searching, they caressed momentarily over each framed painting and encased ornate vase.

He'd never seen you in anything more than your tight pink work shirt, which - don't get it mistaken - did enough damage to his psyche on it's own, but he immediately knew he'd never recover from the little green dress that clung to your frame.

A square neckline reached past clinking necklaces, long sleeves brushed along your palm - a job Steven desperately wished was his own - and a ruffled edge that teased an upper expanse of thigh which he'd never before been gifted a view of ... and if you shifted just a little, bent just slightly over--

"Hey, thanks a lot. The tour was great."

The middle aged man's face reappeared into Steven's view: dirtied spectacles pressing down the edge of his sweating red nose.

Steven stuttered, eyes flickering between the man's face and your figure in the distance. "Y-Yeah, of course ... anytime, mate."

Your eyes found him, waving a hand.

Uninterested in letting the American tourists keep him from you any longer, Steven slipped past them towards your nearing frame.

"Stevie, hey." You beamed up at his face, hands playing with the strap of your bag: clearly unsure. "You-- well, it was my day off and I thought maybe I could take you up on that tour, but I just saw the board and it says you'd already finished your last one--"

"Hey, hey," Steven shook his head. "No, I'm ... I'm glad you came. I can take you if you'd still like, I'd love to show you around? It will be like a private tour."

He swore he could dissolve under the shine of the smile you gave him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh—“ you started digging into the bag draped down over your shoulder. “That reminds me …”

Your hand emerged with a single white flower. It’s petals were wide with a barely there yellow dot in the centre.

“I thought it would match the jacket you always wear.” A hand reached out, tugging gently on the corner pocket of his grey trench coat and slipping the flower in so it stuck half out happily. “It’s a white daffodil. Nicked it last night before I closed up.”

Steven’s chest was clenching up with a tightness that felt like his last remaining decisions in this life were to either immediately faint, or kiss you until the oxygen deprivation lead him to faint anyways.

“I—“ His fingers caressed gently at the edge of it’s petal. “Thank you.”

“Give her a compliment, Steven.” Marc’s voice startled him. He was a rare presence when Steven was at work.

The idea prodded at Steven that maybe it was the sound of your voice that had drawn him out.

“You … you look beautiful, by the way.” Steven pressed out, “the dress, it’s — it’s very nice.”

With nervous hands at the edge of the skirt, your looked quickly between the dress and Steven's face. "Ugh, this old thing. Just thought it would be a good idea to get out of my work uniform for a bit."

"I agree ... a great idea." He nodded, "You wanna ... get started?"

"Of course."

Steven lead you over the same route that he walked three times a day, four times on weekends, but somehow still felt itchy between the rooms. He figured it had to do with you gaze pressing curiously over his face, it made his neck hot and he prayed you couldn't see it.

When he spoke, you leaned close into his frame: eyes flickering between his trembling lips and the artefacts he was describing.

"That's so cool ..." you'd whisper to yourself at different points, sometimes a "that's crazy" or a "that's kinda gross", and Steven was drinking in your reactions like a man parched.

The tour closed off at the spot it usually does, with the replica of the Rosetta's Stone near the West Exit. By then, the sun had already sunk behind the backdrop of summer London and Steven's nerves were downright shot.

Your perfume was sending him on a chemical high and he's sure Marc heard every one of his desperate thoughts about the way your fingers tightened around his arm when they'd bump past other visitors moving room to room.

With the dress swaying merrily at your sides, you recounted points of the tour with animated hands flying ahead of you.

"And the way they managed to get those tombs so far underground? Not to even mention the complex tunnelling systems, how much work that would actually take to figure out--"

The tiny birds had returned to flying in circles over Steven's head, Isn't She Lovely was playing absently from somewhere in the depths of his mind.

Your excited hands came to find your sides and you huffed yourself into silence.

Following beside him, Steven lead you two out under the arched gates towards the steps of the museum. The moon twinkled between streetlights, and Steven avoided its gaze. Like he could feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, a smile that just about suffocated him.

“Enjoyed it?” You laughed. “It was amazing, I mean, you were amazing.”

He laughed softly too, but didn’t respond.

The silence was beginning to turn stale.

“Now is as good a time as it’s gonna get.” Marc pestered.

“Well I should—“ you pointed obviously over your shoulder, before finding the face of your wrist watch. “My bus will be leaving soon.”

Steven nodded. “Yeah … yeah of course. I had fun, you should come by more often.”

“It was … it was very sweet. Taking me on the tour when you probably had better things to do.” Your hand curled over his forearm again, “You’re very sweet, Steven.”

“And you’re very beautiful.”

The words found the air between them before Steven even knew what he’d said.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, cheeks brushed with a warm pink: “I— thank you, Stevie.”

Steven nodded, not looking at you and suffocating on his own embarrassment. “I’m gonna— need to go finish up inside.”

An unmistakably wounded look passed over your face. It dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.

“Sure.” It was curt. “I’ll see you round the shop.”

“Steven, if you do not stop her so help me God—“

A flurry of hot and cold feelings were chasing up and down his chest: he watched your figure turn and worked to do the same.

The outline of the museum had barely returned to his frame of vision when the cold hand of his subconscious reached out and dragged him down into it’s icy black depths: now watching the view of his eyes as if from a foggy tape recorder.

Marc stiffened his shoulders, turning to where you were bounding down the steps of the museum, heels clicking on each jump.

He chased down after you, skipping two steps at a time.

“Marc, don’t! You’re gonna scare her!” Steven was shouting now, rattling his already shaky consciousness.

He called your name where you’d just reached the sidewalk. You turned up to meet his face.

In barely fractions of a moment, Marc was able to find some sympathy for dear Steven.

Now that he was faced with you himself, as opposed to the blurry lens he’d been cursed to only peer through before, he wondered how Steven ever conjured up the courage to say more than three words to you.

“Steven?”

The light of the street-lamp was flickering in little circles off your eyes in the dim street and Marc was half convinced to abandon Steven in the darkness.

He didn’t.

Rather, he slipped back down into the shadows where he felt Steven surpass him again.

Your brow bent deeper in confusion, “Are you alright?”

If he had time, Steven might have taken a moment to huff at Marc for not even bothering to turn away when he forced himself back to the front, spared you from the sight of his eyes rolling back in their head. But no, you probably thought he was possessed.

“I, yes, that doesn’t matter—“

He could feel ice cold adrenaline pumping down from his brain. Like he did in the seconds before a fight, when the suit would crawl up over his skin.

“Your eyes,” your hand came close up to his face, hesitant enough to just float in its orbit. “They rolled—“

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You blinked up at him. Once, twice.

The silence was reaching far past the limits that it did in all the romance movies Steven had seen and his palms were growing itchy with the passing seconds.

“When?”

Steven’s head was reeling. He hadn’t thought that far, but why quit while he’s ahead?

“Now. Right now, tonight.”

The surprise was fading from your face, replaced with eyes that were glowing around the corners and a smile that made his heart skip every second beat.

“Don’t you have work?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“If you promise to still come visit the shop ... I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie. Right now.”

Warmth was flooding back into Steven’s hands. “I’ll set up a tent outside on the sidewalk …” he breathed, “you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Steven nodded. Almost tripping on the step up behind him, “I’m going to tell them that I’m leaving. Just wait right here …“

He’d already moved up two steps, legs buzzing with untamed exhilaration.

“Steven, hold on just one sec—“ when he turned, you’d surpassed the small steps separating you.

He’d barely a chance to turn all the way back around when your index finger hooked between his neck and the collar of his shirt and your lips were on his.

They were warm and soft and Steven had no idea what he was doing.

With his experience being limited to the pool of:

A. The girl he’d pecked in first grade on the swings in the playground.

B. A drunken make-out at a college party for a college he didn’t even attend and,

C. His (mostly Marc’s) ex-wife,

It was nothing short of a miracle when his hand came up to find the side of your neck. When he pulled your waist flush against his.

“Atta’ boy.” He ignored Marc.

You pulled back, Steven was pleased to notice your reddened, wet lips.

“Sorry,” you whispered close against him, voice half-drowned out by the rumbling of taxis in the street and people passing by. “Been itching to do that for a while.”

-

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